


boys in blue

by xShieru



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Normal High School, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Family Drama, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Partying, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-01-15 08:45:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 36,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12317634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xShieru/pseuds/xShieru
Summary: Ace. The star player of the lacrosse team, loved and looked up to by all, aimlessly wanders around in search of himself, unable to forgive his father for walking out of their lives.Luffy. The local delinquent who keeps getting into far more trouble than it’s worth and enjoys the smallest of blessings despite living in the place designated to crush youthful dreams.Sabo. The prodigy boy resented for his upper-class status and chained up by his parents’ insane expectations, tries to live out his remaining school life in peace despite subconsciously seeking out thrills and freedom.The story of three teenagers who come from very different backgrounds and become unlikely friends, somehow making it work.





	1. thursday blues

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yotrashkid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yotrashkid/gifts).



> here it is, my ultimate dream to write a cheesy and cliche high school au. behold.  
> named bob.  
> jesus.  
> anyways enjoy the teen angst, symbolism and GRATUITOUS FAMILY CONFLICTS

_“Portgas!”_

The ball nearly catches his face when Ace moves out of its trajectory at the very last second, watching it bounce on the ground before rolling to a stop near the goalie. He blinks the blurry haze clouding his eyes – god, he hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep last night – and stifles a yawn. His fellow attackman shoots Ace a concerned stare that’s layered with annoyance directed at his doziness, despite the burly dude trying to appear understanding. They’ve a game coming up soon and by then, the team has to be in its best shape. How else will they achieve victory if their _star player_ is in shambles?

“I’m sorry, Mr. Beckmann!” Ace sheepishly apologizes, running a gloved hand over his obnoxiously red helmet. “Didn’t see it coming.”

The coach sighs at the half-truth, clearly displeased. His fingers twitch as though he’s craving for a good smoke and then settle on the whistle instead, bringing it to his lips, blowing it for no reason whatsoever – the rest are already staring at Ace, mentally judging his lack of concentration. “Alright, everyone, that’s enough for today,” Beckmann announces with a dismissive wave, ”Go over your cool off routines before hitting the showers and don’t forget to stretch, ya hear? Nothing good’s comin’ from morning’s practice,” he grumbles, a bit lower.

The team barks out a perfectly synchronic “yes, sir!” and the players head towards the track stadium, sticks balanced over uniformed shoulders. Ace peels off the helmet and turns to follow when Beckmann’s, “Not you, Portgas,” makes him halt, a sense of dread gnawing at his chest.

Some guys shoot condescending looks over their wide shoulders, snickering – it’s rare to see Ace get into trouble with the coach. For them, this must be a once-in-a-lifetime show.

Beckmann finally gives up on acting like a picture-perfect image of a healthy lifestyle-supporting coach and whips out the pack of cigs hidden in the folds of his navy tracksuit. He offers Ace a smoke because there are no such things as secrets between sportsmen and their respective coaches, but the freckled-teen refuses, balancing the stick and leaning against it. His gray eyes are downcast when Beckmann noisily exhales the cancer-inducing smoke. “Is everything alright? That hit would’ve blown your head off.”

“I think you’re exaggerating,” Ace points out, shuffling the cleats over the frail, emerald-colored grass. This is awkward – he’s never gotten a talking to before, despite it being his third year on the team.

“Am I, really?” Beckmann smirks around the cig. “That newbie has a monstrous swing, I swear to fucking god. Looks like the cup’s actually achievable this year.”

“He would’ve knocked me out at worst,” Ace refuses to comment on the coach’s hopes for the opening game of the new season – chances of them emerging victorious are close to zero despite the flood of powerhouses they’ve received at the start of the school year, the brats replacing the gaps in defense left behind by the freshly-graduated players. They’re yet to learn how to function as something that could be referred to as a team, no less figure out specific plays. Individuality will get them nowhere – Ace knows that lacrosse is, first and foremost, a team sport. However, it seems that some of his juniors are having a hard time grasping that concept in particular.

“You may have a thick skull, son, but nobody would’ve volunteered to drag your sorry ass to the nurse’s office at asscrack o’clock.”

Beckmann is, of course, right. Ace struggles connecting with the current team full of snobby newbies, literally every single one of them thinking that they’re the hot shit compared to the rest. Whatever, the first _real_ game will undeniably clip their ruffled wings, the same way it clipped Ace’s back when he was a freshie himself. But damn if he doesn’t want those victories and that cup. Ace doesn’t have much time left before graduation and he needs to carry on his old teammates’ aspirations at least. Marco will never forgive him if he fucks it up over something dumb like a lack of basic human decency when it comes to cooperation.

Ace determinedly refuses to memorize their names until the brats start showing some respect to the try-hard coach, to him, and begin putting actual effort into working together as a coordinated group.

“Trouble at school?” the coach continues his questioning, gaze drifting towards the teens going over their drills, pace mild at best. Lazy fools. “Home? Girls?”

“Nothing of the sort,” Ace says, as convincingly as he can. It’s not a lie – he’s simply not feeling it today. Or yesterday. Or the day before that. Or, at all, really. He isn’t too sure why or how he hasn’t quit lacrosse yet. Perhaps it’s because it gives him something to do after class. Ace thinks that being active is far better than heading back home right away and then rotting in front of the computer screen, mindlessly scrolling through social media while hoping for his friends to log on. Doing absolutely nothing makes him jumpy, not to mention bored as hell, lonely thoughts tend to surface to the forefront of his mind and Ace resents that. He’s fully aware that he’s his own worst enemy. To summarize: lacrosse is a welcome distraction from his daily gloomy, plaguing thoughts. “Kinda out of it.”

“I noticed,” the coach barks out a short laugh, “at least you still got your reflexes. Think you can make it to afternoon practice or would you prefer having the rest of the day off?”

It’s a bit strange – while Beckmann is far from a slave driver, he rarely willingly grants his overworked players time off. Driven by the urge to win the cup for the first time in six years, the old man continuously encourages active participation. Ace realizes that it’s not charity – with him in the way, doing god knows what and nearly getting himself knocked out every three throws, they’re not going to achieve that pipe dream. In other words, he’s subtly being dismissed.

Ace collects the stick and straightens up, mood plummeting even further. “Day off,” he states, a little sour. Beckmann raises a thinned-out eyebrow but doesn’t comment on the rude tone. “Gonna get my shit together. Have fun chasing around the team, coach, perhaps today’s your lucky day.”

They both know that it’s not and it likely won’t be. It hasn’t been his day or week or month. Beckmann nods and Ace crosses the stadium, bee-lining towards the crummy showers. Fuck stretching.

He regrets his hasty choice immediately when the cold water hits his back and his muscles tense so badly that he swears his neck cramps in three places.

* * *

 

He stops by to chat with his classmates and smoothly evades the more obnoxious people, sparing them a stiff nod or a wiggle of fingers in acknowledgment and heads towards the locker to shove his backpack inside. His first period is history and that alone makes Ace sigh in aggravation – he does not like the teacher nor does he enjoy history all that much in general. Who even cares about who killed some random guy or started some revolution hundreds of years ago? Only a third of those events influenced their current society so Ace sees no point in cramming useless information related to possibly bullshitted facts. Ace’s more of a “facts and proof” guy, highly preferring subjects that make actual sense like math and physics, chemistry reigning supreme as his top favorite.

On Thursdays, he gets the shit he hates the most. Today is, unfortunately, a Thursday.

Way to fix his mood. Really.

Thinking that it’s bound to be bad regardless, Ace resigns himself to his fate and punches in the code of his locker – his mom’s birthday. The moment he peels the metal door open, a shitton of folded letters and heavy books fall down on top of him, various contents of his lockers spilling out at his feet, letters scattering in the air. _Neat._

Ace audibly groans and quickly refuses the help of the more than eager freshmen girls giggling into their palms and elbowing each other whenever Ace so much as passed by, as though he was an object rather than a human being with actual feelings and a sense of awareness. And _very_ good hearing as well.

God, tweens were fucking horny. Never failed to make him uncomfortable, like he was a piece of meat put on display.

Ace picks up his calculus books and shoves them back inside however the fuck – no wonder this happens at least twice a week, he really needs to clean this place up – and he’s about to bend over yet again to pick up his homework reading when someone beats him to it, holding it up for Ace. He opens his mouth to protest but is met with Luffy’s warm stare and Ace’s shit morning immediately gets at least ninety-nine percent better.

“I mean, I know I’m messy, but holy shit, Ace,” Luffy doesn’t bother to say hi since they are way past that stage, brushing past the older boy to shove his face into the locker. “Ohh, a Snickers! Can I have it?” he’s already reaching towards it, fingers twitching in excitement, grin wide as though he’s just discovered a gold mine.

“Knock yourself out, Lu,” Ace smiles, stretching out his leg to bring the remaining notes closer – he’s not about to give those girls the satisfaction of seeing him bent over yet again. He crouches down, turning over a heart-stamped letter and folding it in half before shoving it into his empty English notes. He receives those letters daily and only out of respect for their feelings, Ace reads all of them. Most of the love letters’ contents are the same: they’re praising his looks, lacrosse skills, popularity and none of them have a single mention about his “shining” personality.

He has no idea how someone can fall for a person they’ve never bothered to talk to, no less approach.

Letter reading is their lunchtime entertainment and Luffy always scrunches up his nose whenever the letters' contents get too cheesy and he comments on them in such a down-to-earth way that it never fails to make Ace crack up laughing without feeling bad that he’s literally making fun of some love-struck student’s feelings. Some of them are poetic as hell – fuck, he remembers a few years back someone actually wrote him poems – and despite everything Ace finds himself impressed. Shakespeare has nothing on this, in fact, if he were alive, he’d be worshiping the anonymous sonneteers praising Ace’s “silver orbs” and “sculpted buttocks”.

“How many today?” Luffy asks in a bored tone, carefully unwrapping the treat. He props his back against the metal, ankles crossed. The ends of his light-washed skinny jeans have holes in them, frayed beyond belief.

Ace shrugs and picks up his pen. “Uhh, six, I think? Pretty sure two just floated down the hallway so I guess they’re lost,” Just because he reads them doesn’t mean he’s about to chase down the letters.

“Less than yesterday,” Luffy points out to console the older boy.

“Maybe they’re finally giving up.”

“I would’ve given up the moment I actually talked to you,” Ace elbows him in the stomach and Luffy bats the sharp limb away, cackling. “Hey, this is edible right?”

“Fuck if I know. If you don’t die of explosive diarrhea, then it probably is.”

Luffy stares at the gooey chocolate and then gives a noncommittal shrug, taking a huge bite, “Eh, good enough for me,” he mumbles around a mouthful and then begins telling him the story of Sanji’s place and their recent hangout. Ace takes out his books slower than usual, wanting to make the moment last.

The kid’s the only person in this godforsaken school who still makes him smile in earnest.

It wasn’t always like that though. See, everyone knew about the infamous troublemaker Monkey D. Luffy and the rumors regarding the small, ADHD-riddled boy certainly weren’t the most… favorable. For one, Luffy was a jackass delinquent who got into all sorts of trouble daily. No one really knew how he even managed to stay here despite the terrible grades and even more terrible attention span issues but Luffy was still studying at New World’s High and it seemed that they’d never be rid of him, not until the day of his graduation at least.

At first, Ace wasn’t too sure where the truths ended and the exaggerated lies started – rumor had it that Luffy had the worst offense record in the history of NWH and that he’d threatened the principal with arson if the school board ever reached a decision to boot him out once and for all. It’s not like he could try and deny the fact that Luffy was a shitty offender – he’d seen the kid lurking around the Principal’s office more than enough times. People assumed that it had everything to do with his background – the kid was poor as dirt, living in the trashy trailer park located not too far off the school’s territory. Despite figuring out the hypothetical reason why Luffy was, uh, like this, they still condemned him for being “trailer trash”.

Many times Ace would walk down the hallway and overhear students whispering among themselves, talking nasty shit about the weird kid. Their talks never failed to disgust Ace and make him lose faith in humanity, in teenagers as a whole. So what if the kid lived off the mercy of his friends, filching food off their trays? So what if he wore the same jeans and the same converse shoes all year round, rolling up the pants whenever it got too hot? So what if the fashionistas of the school could count all the shirts and hoodies that the kid owned using the fingers of only one hand?

Did it really matter? Anyone could easily end up in Luffy’s spot in the span of a single day and Ace is certain that no one would be cackling then.

Luffy was an alright kid, a happy kid who loved his friends and whose friends loved him back just as much if not more, and while Ace didn’t really go out of his way to get to know him, mindful of his own status and reputation, aware of how much they’d likely clash, he never actively participated in the rumor mill, a passive listener that he was.

That all changed when he wound up in detention for _indirectly_ calling a teacher a fucking idiot. Like, he didn’t even apologize or anything. Boohoo.

So he didn’t like her art. Big deal. Everyone had a right to an opinion, right? Apparently not, in this case. The deranged lady that no one really liked or respected insulted his lack of “refined taste ” and understanding of art as a whole and then proceeded to shame him to the point Ace was forced to put his foot down – he wasn’t about to get scolded for something this… stupid. 

Offended, the art teacher Ms. Jora wrote a long-ass, tearful report on Ace and his _very crude_ behavior, expressing her concerns with her student's wounded psyche and kicked him out to the Principal’s office with an indignant huff.

Rayleigh read over the first three lines before snorting and putting the stupid piece of paper away, announcing the start of detention. Ace thought it to be a complete waste of time as he tried to complete his homework for tomorrow’s class – at least it was useful for one thing. Rayleigh was too busy scrolling his phone to actually observe the condemned students – Ace and, of course, Luffy.

The kid had a pencil balanced on his pursed lips as his legs milled about, unable to sit still and concentrate on something for more than a few minutes. He doodled, gave up, tried doing his homework, gave up even faster, and he let his head rest on the desk with a thud of finality, groaning. Disturbed by the obnoxious noise, Ace made the mistake of looking in the kid’s direction and acknowledging his existence.

Their eyes met and that was it. Ace opened his mouth to tell the younger kid to shut the fuck up before he got them into even more trouble and Luffy mistook it for an invite to get to know each other better, telling Ace _that he was a big fan of his bold plays, never having missed a single game, but oh, lacrosse wasn’t that interesting, but his friends were into it and always dragged him along whenever they had the chance, and he had cheerleader friends and oh, oh does he know Nami, Vivi –_

They somehow left the detention as tentative friends despite Ace’s initial reluctance. Luffy was simply… far too nice to actively dislike, not to mention hate.

The kid’s cheerful, “Brought me something delicious today?” effectively snaps Ace out of his memory lane and he distractedly nods, shoving a green-lidded container into Luffy’s now-empty hands. The short kid’s eyes nearly sparkle when he peels it open to inspect its contents and finds Bolognese sandwiches, cut in neat triangles, bread crusted to perfection. “Uwaaah, my favorite! Tell your mom that I love her and her cooking and god bless her kind soul,” he chirps and forces himself to close the container, shoving it into his ratty backpack. “Can’t wait for lunch break!”

“Dude, these are just sandwiches,” Ace laughs, snapping the locker door shut. Class is about to start. “They don’t require cooking. Or skill to make, really.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever tried mine then,” Luffy pulls a disgusted face when he thinks about his own, uh, creations. “Now that is diarrhea-inducing.”

“How do you fuck up slicing ingredients?” they head in the direction of the overflowing staircase, brushing past the masses of teachers and students.

“I sliced my finger only four times,” Luffy laughs at the bloody memory and shows the pale scar-tissue to Ace. “Also tuna doesn’t go well with bananas.”

“Why would you even think that it would!?”

Luffy shrugs, “Dunno,” follows it up with a quieter, “That was all we had back home.”

It makes Ace feel like an asshole for asking. He’s about to apologize, make amends for being inconsiderate when they walk in on a rather pathetic scene. In NWH, the sight of bullying isn’t rare to the point the teachers no longer bother to interfere or do anything about it, and these instances occur daily. Luckily for Luffy, he has great, terrifying friends that no one wants to mess with under any circumstances, otherwise Ace is pretty certain that the boy would be walking around with nasty purplish bruises marring that tan skin.

The blond, lean kid that’s been shoved into the lockers none-too-gently shoots a harsh glare over a squared shoulder, staring the offenders down, but he does nothing to start a confrontation, only collects his scattered, well-kept notes and stomps away, nose high in the air. The bastards currently shaming the name of the lacrosse team – fucking pricks, Ace bitterly thinks, they could’ve _at least_ changed out of their sweaty uniforms before proudly strutting around the hallways as though they owned the place, openly flaunting their status – call the bullied kid a weakling, a pussy, jibe at him for retreating like any sane person would when faced with three burly athletes.

Luffy halts with a light frown, ratty bag pressed to his front, knuckles whitening out over the scar-marred skin. While Luffy takes the bullying pretty badly, Ace harbors zero sympathy for the cocky kid. It was probably his own fault for getting manhandled – he’s nearly certain of it.

Luffy pins him with an intense look as though he’s expecting Ace to do something, to jump in to tell the laughing jocks off – he has the power here, he can easily approach the bullies and tell them to get bent – but Ace only shrugs and beckons Luffy to hurry up.

The younger kid’s indecipherable gaze follows the tall blond until he rounds the corner of the hallway, disappearing out of sight.

* * *

 

Ace returns home late, choosing to walk around the neighborhood, unable to sit still despite how worn out he feels. It’s a nice, sunny day and he spends at least an hour in the park, waving at the local friendly hobo Kuzan when the guy rides by on his old bike, signaling Ace a few times. The weather smells of the upcoming cold and the leaves are already yellowing, falling. Ace closes his eyes and breathes, music loud in his ears.

He drifts in and out of consciousness. 

Once the phone runs out of battery and the sun is low over the tall tree-covered horizon, Ace decides to leave.

Mom’s working late tonight so Ace cooks himself a healthy dinner, making sure there’ll be enough for his lovely mother. She’ll undoubtedly return tired and worn out more than usual, so Ace wants to pamper her and make her feel very loved.

His mother hasn’t been doing too well lately.

Spade drools on his socked feet, eyeing the greasy spatula and clearly smelling the food sizzling in the huge pan. Ace gently pushes him away with a foot but the old bulldog refuses to be brushed aside, whining for at least a small piece of meat. “You’re just like Luffy, you glutton,” Ace grins and spares the dog some sausage. Spade devours it immediately and continues staring, snorting, big eyes glassy. Ace ignores the pooch – he already has stomach issues and the vet kindly  _suggested_ giving Spade smaller portions. Mother loves to overfeed their little, fat baby. Spade waddles around on stout legs, Ace’s little joy filled with drool and smelly farts, but gives up three minutes in after Ace stares him down, curling up under the table instead.

Rouge hardly has the energy to cook, no less do any chores whenever she’s done working the night shifts so Ace attends to them without a single complaint, always unasked. He refills the dog’s bowls, eats his too-spicy dinner in silence, cleans up the kitchen until its spotless and he can see his reflection on the counter and writes his mother a short note: “hope you like it, it’s a new recipe :) love you” before stashing the leftovers away.

The spacious kitchen is eerily quiet. Outside, it’s already dark.

Still, Ace has to walk Spade despite feeling unnaturally cold so he huddles up and walks around the neighborhood for the second time that day, a pack of menthols resting heavy in his pocket. He always feels damn guilty whenever he lights them – Rouge has already caught him sneaking in a smoke at least twice. The concept of her little boy willingly damaging his respiratory system makes her sad and Ace doesn’t fucking need to add to her distress even more.

Dad hasn’t _visited_ home for months now.

If he ever catches her crying right after talking with Roger over the phone, Ace usually pretends that he didn’t see. That he didn’t listen in on their hushed conversations, his mother nodding her head, shoulders hunched, lying through her teeth about there being no rush, that she and Ace are doing good and that they’re managing. She tells dad that she misses him but not enough to break down.

She’s lying.

Usually, Ace’s old man has the decency to return home at least once every four months but they’ve stretched into five, six, seven and Ace no longer knows what to tell her, how to console her, feeling angry at the old man. She’s getting gray hairs from the stress and the marks under her eyes deepen, along with the shadows that come with sleepless nights and worry. His mom is withering away before his eyes and Ace can’t bear to look at her like this – she’s the only family he has.

Her health’s been downgrading as well. Definitely not a good sign.

Angry at himself and his poisonous thoughts, he decides to walk home, keeping the time spent outside brief – Spade doesn’t really have a soft spot for outdoors either way.

Today’s shit: confirmed, he firmly decides, when he stomps upstairs and locks the door of his, for the lack of better word, cave –  while Ace cleans around the house he refuses to touch his assorted mess consisting of old dishes, dirty laundry and a clusterfuck of various papers – and he peels off his clothes, leaving a trail to the bed, collapsing into it face first. God, he’s feeling so fucking tired, so damn drained, but sleep eludes Ace completely so he twists and turns, checks his phone for notifications, declines his old school friends’ offer to have a group call, throws the sheets off his body and decides that fuck it, he’s going to smoke.

The night’s chill filters into the room, seeps into Ace’s naked chest, the breeze ruffling the curtains and his black hair which stands up just like his douchebag father’s, only shaggier and curlier. Ace ruffles it in hopes to rearrange it but fails his task and he curses the fact that he prefers his hair longer rather than short. Not like much can be done about that.

His lighter clicks three times and the smokes energize him even further, to the point that he begins pacing like some caged lion, only halting after he checks that it’s a little past midnight and fuck tomorrow’s _a Friday_ and he feels like sleeping in but he knows that he can’t because he’s the dumbass who willingly signed up for lacrosse and he has to be at the lockers at 6:50 am sharp. Beckmann won’t tolerate tardiness.

Sighing, Ace falls back on the cluttered bed, stuffs the earbuds into his ears and lets the trashy rock music lull him to dreamless sleep. He hopes that his mom won’t pass out on the couch this time around, too weak to actually put anything into her mouth.


	2. the enemy of a friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> has to do an analysis of two movies for uni  
> fuck it

On Friday, Sabo‘s morning goes from decent to goddamn terrible in the span of no more than twenty minutes.

The Outlooks’ maids rap their knuckles against his carved door at 5:30 am sharp, every morning and without fail, calling the “Young Master” downstairs for breakfast which will not be served for at least an hour. Sabo has no need for clocks with those two obnoxious ladies around but he’s still defiant enough to set an alarm for 5:25 o’clock just to annoy the maids by telling them that they’re late.

This is quite literally the oldest trick in Sabo’s book and it usually doesn’t work, especially nowadays because he’s been doing this exact same thing for as long as he can remember, but it still so worth hearing the overbearing maids’ scoffs and the forced “nice” replies to Sabo’s offhanded comments.

Today, though, Sabo sleeps in late.

The maid hollers at him for at least five painstaking minutes before Sabo actually finds the strength to tear his heavy eyelids open, rapidly blinking away the headache that comes with the lack of rest – Sabo had fallen asleep somewhere past 3 am while pouring over the thick mathematics books, preparing for the test that’s due in a week – and then his toes land right into a puddle of cat vomit located at the end of the king-sized bed.

His fat orange tabby lovingly nicknamed Mera appears to be dead on the carpet, lying on her side, eyes bleary and nose dry, unnaturally warm. Sabo attends to his cat – not his, technically, but Stelly had grown bored of it three months in and discarded the gifted animal aside as though it was a fluffy, unfeeling toy – while the maid bites down curses and his headache keeps on growing as he reassures the psychotic lady that he’s up and can she please go away already before he goes deaf.

Mera seems to have eaten something bad and when Sabo goes downstairs with his hay-colored hair unwashed, standing in complete disarray, his button down untucked and Mera wrapped up in a warm blanket, sadly meowing whenever Sabo jostles her too much, his parents somehow have it in them to scream at his unkempt appearance, completely ignoring Sabo’s meek excuses about the sick cat.

It ends in a heated argument and one-sided insults thrown over the breakfast table with Sabo having to give Mera away to his disgruntled maid in favor of heading upstairs for a proper, lengthy shower – he isn’t to appear before his family until he looks decent enough to leave the house and go to school.

Breakfast is out of the question as well, of course. If he has the time to waste on arguing with his saint parents, then he can skip out on food as well. Their chauffeur will not wait up on him, in fact, let this be a good lesson to you, Sabo.

Sabo places his head on the cool ceramic tiles of his private bathroom and bites back the urge to scream into the ice-cold water spray pelting down on his squared shoulders.

This may be a bit of an understatement but Sabo Outlook does not… harbor any warm feelings for his family, the same way they don’t really care for their son. It wasn’t always like that though, at first he’d somewhat try to act according to their expectations, live up to them, but years passed and Sabo gradually realized the hopelessness of his situation – he and his parents will never see eye to eye about, uh, right about anything. It just wasn’t meant to be.

He’s yet to find individuals less worthy of his respect. Dumb and conceited, blinded by their riches, the Outlooks saw themselves above the rest, above the society. Unfortunately for Sabo, it was constantly expected of him to do the same but he never had the willpower to bring himself to act like a terrible human being. Deep in his heart, Sabo knew that even if their company was to go bankrupt, his parents would never lose their pride. They’ll never get their head out of their asses and they will never show the tiniest bit of compassion towards Sabo who they overworked until he could hardly function as a human being.

As his own person.

On the worse days, Sabo can feel his parents getting under his skin, breaking down his, as they call it, “idealistic” mentality, but today it has the opposite effect – Sabo seethes, bruises his knuckles on the wall after he’s done drying off and stomps outside without sparing them a single glance.

They don’t wish him a good day.

Stelly’s already left to his snobbish all-boys private school – Sabo had to fight tooth and nail for that transfer to NWH a semester into his first year – and their second chauffeur impatiently honks at him for dillydallying, revving the black Porche’s engine to make a point; “hurry up”.

Sabo frowns at being rushed, feels like going slower just to annoy the driver and resists the temptation to kick at the tires to release some of the pent up tension. The pounding headache beating at the gap between his blue eyes nearly makes Sabo reel, so he obliges and throws his overflowing schoolbag inside before falling on the black leather-covered seats, closing the door with more force than it is necessary. The driver shoots him a nasty glare at that, glowering through the rear mirror. Sabo stares back but he’s almost late for school and the old guy has a job to attend to so they take off, Sabo crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes immediately. The ride to school is a long one so he decides to sneak in at least ten minutes of shuteye before facing the new day filled with studies and fresh bruises.

* * *

 

Sabo isn’t the most well-liked guy out there.

He isn’t too sure what exactly draws the attention of the heartless, more self-absorbed bastards. He looks average, he dresses pretty damn simply – designer label clothes non-counting – and doesn’t really stand out from the rest. One would pass him at the town without sparing Sabo a single look yet in NWH, wherever he goes, Sabo usually and unknowingly winds up as the center of attention.

Sometimes it’s not too bad – Sabo knows for sure that at least half of his classmates genuinely like him for his personality rather than wealth – while other times which happen to shape the majority…

No matter how much Sabo likes to turn a blind eye on the fact that the rest of the student body _shits_ on him because of smarts and cash, the fact remains – they absolutely love poking at him and find Sabo an “easy target”. Because really, why wouldn’t you want to pick on a rich kid after he sees right through your real intentions and turns down the “friendship requests”.

Sabo doesn’t have a lot of friends here but he’d much rather rot away in this terrible public school than return to All-Boys St. Enel’s Private Academy. He doesn’t care if people single him out for his famous last name and the fact that his father owns at least half of this town. Doesn’t care that they make remarks about him having his own personal driver who brings him to school and then takes him home every single day – they call him a sheltered rich boy for that one, he knows. Doesn’t care if they “subtly” elbow him a day after Sabo scores the highest on his tests or wins some debate.

They call him a teacher’s pet – the “endearment” is applied to every single teacher that he studies under, of course – a stuck up, a nerd and plenty other names and Sabo just really, really doesn’t care. Can’t be bothered to care because he knew what he was signing up for from day one and while he isn’t a pushover, he doesn’t want any unnecessary trouble that’ll manifest in the shape of red-faced screaming parents and weeks-long house arrest.

Sabo can handle some name-calling. He’d rather suffer through that than spend more than four hours cooped up in that goddamned mansion.

Sabo always leaves right before things can escalate, eyerolling at the bullies’ weak attempts to get a rise of him and simply lowers his head, running off in the opposite direction before he can explode, temper barely kept in check. It doesn’t help Sabo’s case that his locker is, unfortunately, located next to those of the new lacrosse players – the guys holding the most “power” in this hell institution. Usually the jocks take great pleasure in publically bitching Sabo out, but the problem with that is that lately no one’s been sticking around for long enough to fully witness their little “plays”, their shows of strength and fragile displays of manliness which Sabo could easily shatter with a few well-placed jibes.

This might make him look like a coward, but Sabo has his _priorities_ , thus he doesn’t truly mind playing the part of the “nerd pussy”.

The chauffeur brings him back to earth with a mumble of “don’t be late this time around” and Sabo ungracefully falls out of the car, not bothering to acknowledge it or its driver in any way. The crowds loitering outside are heading towards the bulking, massive building built of red bricks, roof so black it seems to be absorbing the morning’s sun. The bell is about to ring, a quick glance at his golden wristwatch tells Sabo that he has no time left to spare – perhaps ten minutes at most. Usually he arrives at least half an hour earlier just to revel in the peace provided by the empty hallways bathed in the flickering fluorescent glow, taking his sweet time with rearranging his neat locker.  

Sabo makes quick work of unlocking the locker, bag already unzipped and balanced on his knee when he overhears the jocks picking on a new victim. Sabo doesn’t even bother to turn his head, already twitchy from the surrounding noise and the searing pain, doesn’t dare to breathe knowing that he might blow his carefully-maintained lid at any second now.

“Do you have any idea who you’re talking to, punk?” Sabo recognizes Eddy’s sickening voice and freezes in the spot, the hand holding his notebook hovering in the air. He knows that he should get a move on but something keeps Sabo still, lips thinning out.

“Dunno,” the bullied kid replies casually and Sabo wants to curse. It’s the weird kid whose locker sits right across from Sabo’s. The troublemaker. What was his name? Lu-something? He risks a glance over a stiff shoulder to assess the kid’s current situation and confirm that yes, that’s indeed that Lu-brat, looking not one bit intimidated by the three towering lacrosse players. How come jocks always walked in threes? Was it some specific lacrosse formation? Trust exercise? Holy dumbass trinity? Sabo groans internally at his train of wandering thoughts and refocuses on the kid.

Luffy stands in the nearly-empty hallway, ankles crossed and a pinky shoved up his nostril, the sleeves of his ratty, stained hoodie slipping down his thin forearms that are covered in rows of woven, colorful bracelets and various bruises, cuts. Neon-colored band aids cover the more serious wounds.

Luffy usually has at least four people around him at all times, glowering at all and any potential enemies that might come the young, twig-like teen’s way, but for some reason today they are nowhere to be found.

Luffy’s _all alone_ against Sabo’s self-appointed tormentors and it’s definitely going to take a while for anyone to break up this fight in particular.

The kid seemingly has the self-awareness the size of a walnut because he only shrugs, face indifferent when he continues his earlier thought, “Some gorillas in lacrosse uniforms? You guys stink, don’t stand so close to me,” Luffy sticks out his tongue in disgust – it’s not like the kid’s lying, Sabo can vouch for the tangy sweat odor, having been on the receiving end of it far too many times to count – and moves aside, backpack pressed close to his chest. Not in a way that would indicate cowardice, though.

He’s a brave little kid, albeit a stupid one. He doesn’t mince his words and he speaks the truth, nothing more, so when one of the dudes sputters indignantly and swings, Sabo’s feet move on their own accord. He inserts himself between the jock and the school’s resident weirdo, pushes the latter out of the harm’s way and easily catches the meaty fist, snarling like a dog.

“Pick on someone your own size, fucker,” Sabo hisses and before the dude can blink in confusion – he’s rendered all of his tormentors speechless – Sabo throws a mean punch, right into the asshole’s crooked nose, feeling his knuckles split and the bone creak in protest.

Behind him, Luffy stumbles backwards with an amazed “ooooh!” and throws himself at the blond bastard who is about to retaliate in earnest, blinking away the sting of his bruised nose gushing blood. Luffy wraps his legs around his thick torso, pressing the jock’s elbows in place, one skinny arm wrapped around the lacrosse player’s bull-like neck, the other going down on the back of his head, sharp.

Sabo stares, eyes wide and his knuckles throbbing in a satisfactory way, and he finally feels slightly more alive, adrenaline kicking in. The other two snap out of their confusion and jump at Sabo who evades with practiced ease, managing to land a few kicks in the process.

If he were still in his “prime”, right now that blondie would be lying unconscious, nose broken. Sabo’s knuckles would be reddened at worst.

High on the feeling of freedom, distracted by Luffy’s victorious and slightly manic grin, Sabo doesn’t notice the two jocks backing him into the lockers with nowhere to run. The kick that he takes to his side makes the air leave his lungs at once and his empty stomach squeezes painfully, upset over the rough treatment and the jostling. The hulking asshole grabs Sabo by the collar and smashes him into the metal of the lockers, making them rattle noisily. Sabo claws at his sausage-thick fingers, windpipe crushed. Sees the jock’s free hand forming a tight fist.

He resigns himself to the inevitable blow that’ll undoubtedly bash his face in and leave something unhinged, already thinking of using the momentum to escape and put distance between himself and the offenders in order to help out Luffy, who is heatedly throwing hands with the big guy, surprisingly even strength-wise.  It’s a sacrifice that Sabo has to make. Sabo closes his eyes, braces himself for the impact and that’s when the pressure around his throat disappears. Someone blindly rushes in to the all-out fight, forcefully yanking the raging jock off him.

Sabo hardly has the time to gather his breath, eyes tearing up and throat screaming in protest, tender to the touch, when that someone steps before him, shielding his form. Sabo registers black boots and gray jeans and his savior hisses in that familiar voice which Sabo’s come to hate. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing!?” Ace glares at the jocks that are supposed to be under his command and the fighting minutely ceases as though he’s just stopped the flow of time.

“They started it,” Luffy finally speaks up, shattering the surreal moment and wiping off the steady trickle of red flowing out of the corner of his split lip. “This guy tried to help me out,” he then points Sabo’s way who continues kneeling, balancing against the dented lockers, still very out of it as though he’s just stepped into some alternative reality wherein Portgas actually _cared_ enough to help out him of all the people.

Sabo has never had any solid reasons to actively dislike Ace, other than for the latter’s association with lacrosse aka Sabo’s bane of existence, being the team’s captain and thus the top dog at that. Ace did jackshit to control his “pack” and never stepped in no matter how bad the situation got, not only for Sabo, but for the rest of the unfortunate nerds and rejects as well. Portgas lived somewhere “up there”, looking down on the rest like some sort of unfeeling jackass queen crafted of frost and ice, made of the same material like his bloody parents, and Sabo resents him for that, resents Ace’s lack of compassion. If Sabo held at least a grain of Ace’s power, none of this would be happening. He would’ve actively tried his best to make this hell school at least a little more bearable for the kids unfortunate enough to have “unappealing” qualities easy to make fun of.

Not to mention the fact that it was pretty clear that Ace simply did not like Sabo in the slightest for reasons unknown, frowning and murmuring darkly whenever Sabo called him out, sometimes even having the audacity to make up lame-ass excuses for his _highly inexcusable behavior_ , unwilling to involve himself in others’ matters. They’d argue about it but then they’d usually go their separate ways, lost in their own private thoughts, not bothering to spare the other a moment of their time.

And here he was, Ace, shining in all his glory like some sort of self-appointed guardian angel, shifting into what was clearly a battle stance after hearing Luffy’s words. “I thought I told you to never bother Luffy,” Portgas hollers, rage clear in his voice, so intense that Sabo feels goosebumps rise along his skin. Even the jocks look a little unnerved.

“Never said anything about this trash, Cap’,” Sabo’s tormentor grins, smile crooked. Forced yet unyielding. “Move it, I ain’t done with him yet. You can play a saint afterwards.”

Ace sends Sabo a wide-eyed, indecipherable stare and Sabo swallows, dread filling his innards – Ace, if he knows what’s good for him, will step down without the burly dude having to tell him twice. His sharp eyebrows knit together as though he’s reevaluating Sabo’s entire character, his existence, face significantly darkening after reaching some sort of wordless conclusion.

It happens so fast that it’s hard for Sabo to properly measure the time. Ace shifts a little, drops his shoulders and then straight up kicks the other guy down, fingers curled into tight fists. His chest heaves and Sabo doesn’t need to see Ace’s face to know that it must look downright terrifying when he grinds out “Like hell!”

Sabo’s up and about and before they fully notice it, they’re back to fighting, Ace physically hoisting up the guy that had the audacity to land blows on Luffy’s face and throwing him away, growling like a wild animal. There’s painful yanking and there are sharp blows followed by swelling tender spots and when the teachers finally rush into the vacated hallway, Sabo’s holding one of the jocks in a tight chokehold to keep him away from Luffy who spits blood on the pristine white floor decorated in red spots.

It takes a lot to separate them and once they do, Sabo finds himself being yanked to the Principal’s office, Luffy’s continuous “ow, ow, ow!” echoing somewhere behind him.

“Let him go, can’t you see that he’s in pain!?” Ace yells at the teacher who doesn’t seem to listen, her heels clicking against the tiles, the sound finally grounding Sabo to the present.

He just started a serious fight. For a kid he doesn’t even know.

His parents will probably _disown him_.

And yet for some reason, he cannot stop smiling, salty blood seeping into his split-covered mouth.


	3. dream team

Waiting in front of Sengoku’s office to get a serious talking to is _annoying_ to say the least, especially after he’s been over this multiple times before, knowing the script for this exact scenario from A to Z.

Luffy half-hears the old man out – same old, same old; _no more monkey business, Luffy, this is your last warning, your behavior has deeply upset me_ , so on and so forth – and he’s the last “victim” to leave before they rush Ace’s teammates inside, the shorthaired blond with a bloody nose and a scar over his left eye glaring at Luffy as though he’s just ruined his life despite the fact that it was him and the other two assholes who’d provoked the fight to begin with.

The post-battle thrills have left Luffy energized to the point he no longer felt the pain radiating from his slightly swollen cheek along with the suspicious creaking of his ribcage. He exits the Principal’s office in high spirits, stretching out the kinks plaguing his back and a dopey smile plastered on his bruised face – today, despite the serious throwdown, is adventurous at least! – and nearly deflates once he picks up on the thick waves of tension radiating from the two older boys who have bravely fought by Luffy’s side, watching his back and constantly keeping him out of danger’s way. For that, Luffy couldn’t be more grateful – despite the rush of energy, he certainly didn’t enjoy nursing swollen eyes and lips, constantly making Chopper freak out on him and Dadan scold him for acting carelessly without thinking beforehand – but he simply doesn’t understand why the other two don’t feel the same way.

The teens seem to be unhappy – well, Luffy can definitely understand it, especially the feelings of frustration that must be plaguing the blond addition to their newly-formed alliance; Luffy knows that the other has worked very hard to maintain a spotless record but figures that even the most patient of mules ran out of patience eventually – nor do they appear to be bonding over this _highly bonding_ experience. In Luffy’s humble opinion, nothing could ever bring men closer together than a lengthy, exhilarating fight wherein their personal values, mindset and stances were made clear to everyone participating.

Ace and the nameless blondie are good guys with the same ideals, both driven by the overwhelming urge to protect the young ones – not that Luffy needs any sort of protection because he can kick ass by himself just fine, whether it’s one-on-one or three-on-one – and yet, they’re still frozen-stiff and uncomfortably silent around each other, seated far apart on the lonely stool that’s stationed in front of the Principal’s office, framed by luscious plants. Ace looks seconds away from slipping off the unstable stool altogether, the tall plant’s splintered leaves resting on top of his shaggy mane and the nameless blond appears to be just as queasy, long legs crossed and shoulders sagging as though he’s desperately trying to take up as less space as it is possible and appear carefully unassuming, invisible. He determinedly avoids looking in Ace’s direction.

Luffy pretends not to notice anything and plops right in the middle, spreading out his legs. Even then, there’s plenty of space left between him and his companions. The blond gets startled by the bold action whereas Ace seems unperturbed, already used to the younger kid’s extravagant ways. “That was tiring! Glad it’s over and done with,” Luffy chirps just to break the six feet-thick ice between them.

It’s Ace who speaks up, finally pulling his mouth away from the confines of the black hoodie, “Hardly. Those fucks don’t know what sort of shitstorm they’ve just brought upon themselves and the rest of the team. Beckmann’s going to flip and if they get booted out, well… can’t say I didn’t warn them.”

An indignant scoff catches Luffy’s attention and he snaps his head towards the blond who seems to be growing more and more annoyed by the second, head lowered, the curtain of hay-colored curls barely shadowing his intense stare. Ace takes in a sharp breath to ground himself for what comes next. He’s clearly expecting an outburst and he isn’t wrong. “ _You?_ Warning them? I could hardly tell the difference,” the blond exaggeratedly rolls his eyes to stress the skepticism dripping off his speech and glowers over the top of Luffy’s head to get a better look at Ace. “I’m sure you could’ve handled this better, _Captain_ ,” he bites back, contempt seeping into his deep voice.

Luffy’s dark eyes flicker towards Ace who seems to be just as pissed off as the other. “Did it look like I wanted to handle this one with mere _words_? Or that they would’ve listened to a single one that I had to say? Fuck, I didn’t even know their names until just now,” he vaguely gestures in the direction of the office, not trying to keep his voice down despite it being mid-second period.  

“You’re teammates! You honestly expect me to believe that you don’t even _know them_? Do you think that I’m that stupid!?” the blond rises to the challenge, straightening up and stretching out his thin neck to appear more powerful and intimidating.

Luffy’s gaze bounces back and forth between the bickering boys, not wanting to interfere. They look like they’re about to reach some sort of grand breakthrough without Luffy’s “help”. “Clearly!” Ace snarls, copying the tense blond’s pose. “You think that I’m some sort of all-knowing rule maker in charge of this place? Well it might surprise you, Outlook, but I’m fucking _not._ “

“That’s because you never try to solve anything! All you ever do is run away with your tail between your legs, Portgas, and don’t you even dare to deny it because you damn well know that it’s true!”

“I saved your ass back there, didn’t I?” Ace stands, every single cell of his body radiating cold anger that’s pulsating under his skin. “How about you show some _gratitude_ instead of trying to rile me up with biased accusations just like every single goddamn time that we interact – “ Ace shuts his mouth the moment the door to the Principal’s office cracks open and a pissed off teacher tells them to keep it down before they get into even more trouble for disturbing the peace. In fact, they should be well on their way back to class.

Through it all, the blond glares at Portgas as though he’s just said something outrageous and terrible, noisily exhaling through his nose and then turns away with an indignant huff, crossing his arms over his chest. He looks like he’d rather die on the spot than accept the fact that _Ace has stood up for him_ , willingly or not.

By now, Ace seems to be regretting his actions as well, pulling his acidic gaze away from the blond’s defensively folded form, looking around the empty hallway and trying to distract himself.

Luffy decides that the duo has had enough talking and pipes in with a cheerful, “Both of you were super cool! You shouldn’t fight over this. We put them in place,” Luffy laughs, flexing his arm before himself, observing the bruises peppering his bony knuckles, the red a stark contrast against his natural tan. “Now they won’t bully you anymore, uhh – “

The blond sighs, only a little exasperated with their tension-filled predicament but the smile that he flashes Luffy’s way is honest and warm, “I’m Sabo. It’s nice to meet you.”

“I’m Luffy!” he introduces himself and moves the bruised hand to Sabo’s surprised face, grabbing his slack palm and shaking it energetically. “We’re going to be good friends from now on!” he exclaims and watches the blond shoot a confused look Ace’s way as if hoping to get a silent explanation for Luffy’s strange behavior. The freckled teen only shakes his head, rolling his eyes – a sign that this always happens and that Sabo should just go with it. “I would’ve picked a fight with them sooner or later. The way they treated you was terrible and it pissed me off. Plus it’d happen right in front of my locker so I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.”

“Right, locker neighbors,” Sabo states and then laughs weakly, scratching the back of his head. Luffy lets go of his hand in favor of peeling at the scabs of the older wounds. “You wouldn’t have paid attention if it was happening elsewhere?” he jokes, but Luffy’s hum is enough to make him shut up.

“Mmm, depends. If I felt that you weren’t a good guy, then I wouldn’t have interfered. Why should I help out someone who doesn’t appreciate it or need it in any way? Others’ fights are none of my business,” Luffy snorts. The sound that leaves his mouth is strange and winded. Sabo swears to god that he’s only ever heard this sort of laughter in cartoons. “But you’re a good guy, Sabo! You’re nice to others and you always work hard and you have your pride in the right place! You didn’t hesitate to help me out. Others would’ve bailed, you know? And you came at them! I didn’t know that you were this strong!? You could’ve taken those guys out a long time ago! Are you taking self-defense classes?” Luffy avalanches the blond with ceaseless questions, hands gripping the stool and legs swinging for entertainment.

“I used to,” Sabo answers simply, attracting Portgas’ questioning stare, one eyebrow raised. A pointed look his way is enough for the looming teen to back off and turn away with a muffled click of tongue. “A long time ago,” he adds as to not embarrass himself and his old mentor’s teachings.

“What kind? Oh, I bet you did boxing. You look like that kind of guy to me!” Luffy leans in, a bright grin splitting his face. This time around, the kid’s not synchronized enough with his surroundings to pick up on Sabo’s mild discomfort, the subtle change of exposition.

Like most good things in Sabo’s life, this hobby in particular was ruined by his family as well. He started taking karate classes at the age of thirteen, after he shamefully lost in a fistfight to his beyond bigoted distant cousin, at auntie’s fourth wedding, no less. Sabo was thin and weak as a wet noodle and his father couldn’t stand the mere concept of Sabo’s lack of physical strength bringing dishonor to the family name.

No more than two days later, Sabo found himself in Hack’s care. The old man was a great instructor, strict yet patient, encouraging, and before he knew it, Sabo grew to enjoy the time spent sweating at the spacious dojo and even developed a love for the martial art itself. He practiced in earnest, growing stronger with every passing day. At the dojo, he met his best friend up to date, perhaps his only true friend - a girl named Koala. They sparred together and they had big dreams centered on the upcoming tournament and even hopes to emerge victorious.

It was all good until the said tournament rolled around. Sabo lost in the second round – in his defense, the kid he was up against was at least three times bigger than Sabo and at least a hundred times more experienced, it was simply bad luck that he got that boy as an opponent – and then he had to kiss his self-defense classes goodbye.

His parents no longer wanted to finance a hobby at which their son failed to exceed.

Hack was sad to see him go, mourning the young boy’s solid potential, and so was Koala, but Sabo had managed to stay in touch with both of them, visiting the dojo during the weekends, hanging out with Koala whenever he could, always going out of his way to text her when he couldn’t. Usually, again, thanks to his parents.

“Leave him alone, Luffy,” Ace takes pity and saves him the trouble of answering, yet Sabo refuses to indicate that this makes him feel better in any sort of way. Discomfort gnaws at his chest at being saved by the other for the second time that day. “You can torment him during our detention. It’s not like you’ll have anything better to do,” Portgas cracks a grin and Luffy answers with one of his own.

“You’re right!” he sings and rises to his feet. “I have a feeling that it’s going to be a good one.”

“I never had to stay behind for detention before,” Sabo quietly confesses, twirling his thumbs nervously. “Is it really as bad as people say it is?”

“Of course not!” Luffy seems to take offense to that. “Rayleigh’s super cool and he’s chill. Plus he usually lets us off the hook early. It’s only boring,” he shrugs, not really managing to soothe Sabo’s frayed nerves in the slightest. There goes his spotless record. Violated.

He’ll be having detention for three days straight because while he, Luffy and Ace did not throw the first punches, fighting like this is completely inexcusable and intolerable.

“You’re scaring him, Lu,” Ace comments with that wolfish grin still pulling at his lips and Sabo wants to punch him in his pretty, bruised face. The asshole deserves a good knock on that strong jaw – perhaps that’d make him go down a notch and face the reality. He isn’t hot shit around here, then again neither is Sabo. Neither is Luffy. “Stay out of the way next time, Outlook. Then you can avoid big bad detentions.”

“How about _you_ stay out of others’ fights?” Sabo hisses, cheeks reddening at being humiliated like this. “I didn’t ask you to play the part of the knight in shining armor. I would’ve chosen someone more fitting for that role,” he gives Ace a supposedly criticizing onceover.

Now it’s Portgas’ turn to color an impressive shade of light pink. The smirk falls off his face as though it’s been blown away by a strong gust of wind and he uselessly gapes like a fish pulled out of water. “I didn’t do it for you, you self-absorbed prick,” he heatedly explains himself, shoulders squared defensively, “Get that through your thick skull. Next time I’m leaving you behind.”

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

 _“Fine!”_ at that, Sabo jumps up as though he’s just been stung by a killer bee, brushing past the goddamned oaf with a bad haircut. “I don’t care about your supposed “aid” in the slightest! I only wanted to help out Luffy and blow off some steam. I’ve no idea why I stayed around for as long as I did.”

“Well, _I_ wanted to make sure that Luffy’s alright,” Ace yells after him, the flush on his face darkening from the anger.

“I did too.”

“Don’t copy me, bastard.”

Sabo flicks him the bird with a shout of “fuck the hell off, Portgas, I’m my own person!” and rounds the corner, stomping out of sight.

A tense moment passes with Ace’s body high-strung to the point that Luffy can almost visualize distress seeping out of his pores and he whistles, impressed. “I like him,” he says with a few energetic bounces. He feels ready to take on a mountain. “We’re going to be such a powerhouse team,” Luffy adds giddily.

Ace tiredly groans in response and pushes the younger kid’s beaming face away, mindful of the bruising. “Forget it. I don’t want Outlook anywhere near me.”

“You won’t be saying that by the end of today,” Luffy states, firm. He knows how Sabo and Ace can set their differences aside and work together as one synchronized unit once more. Luckily for Luffy, he also knows the perfect way to do it. “You’re going to be the bestest of friends. You’ll see.”

Ace kicks him in the shin. “That’s not even a word!”

This detention arrangement is certainly a godsend, Luffy decides once he starts heading back to class alongside Ace who keeps grumbling about Sabo’s lack of respect, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jeans.


	4. detention

It is common knowledge that for two emotionally-distant people to properly get along all they need is a common enemy.

Needless to say, the whole setting, aka their first group detention, miraculously works in Luffy’s favor.

Rayleigh appears to be relaxed as always, fingers flying over the keyboard of the laptop. His droopy eyes are focused on the illuminated screen, glancing up every five minutes to check on the condemned children and make sure that they haven’t yet overturned the classroom completely. The tension is palpable in the air and those two – Rayleigh checks the detention notices jotted down in the most rage-filled handwriting that he’s ever seen: Portgas-Gol D. Ace and Outlook Sabo – older boys seem to be mere seconds away from tearing into each other. Rayleigh doesn’t care at all for their personal issues – after all, he’s just a supervising teacher – but still, even he cannot deny the fact that he’d rather not have this drag out or become a reoccurring theme. He already has his hands full of Luffy who was forced to visit this classroom at least every two days.

Luffy sits at the very back of the spacious classroom; second row from the window, three seats away from Portgas’ hunched up frame; with an innocent and clearly _fake_ too-wide smile pulling at his lips. Rayleigh raises a white brow in question – it’s not like this brat to be so still and is that homework on his desk or is he seeing things? 

He doesn’t do anything bad or suspicious, energetically waving the teacher’s way, so after holding eye contact for a bit longer than it is necessary, gaze scrutinizing and trying to pick out the faults in the teen’s peculiar behavior, Rayleigh cautiously turns back to his work.

That’s the moment when Luffy’s hand dips into the pocket of his hoodie and takes out a straw.

* * *

 

Ace is minding his business when something hits the back of his head.

The first hit is weak and he nearly thinks that he's imagined it, absentmindedly rubbing at the tender spot located on his scalp and then refocusing his attention back to the chemistry formula that he’s been going over for the past five minutes or so.

The second time, it hits his ear and it actually _hurts._

“What the!” Ace silently curses, shooting an anxious look Rayleigh’s way – the teacher’s yet to notice the ensuing turmoil – and feels around his ear, wincing at the slightly wet feeling. Pissed off, he turns back to check on Luffy – the kid's looking out the window, ankles crossed and swaying back and forth – and then his gaze wanders to the window row. Outlook seems miserable as ever, face buried in palms. He hasn't moved since they got ushered inside the classroom.

Ace feels around the cluttered surface of the ancient desk marked in hairy penis doodles and masterfully carved out "fuck"s, pushing his Chem textbooks and notes out of the way. Right as he lifts the calculator and, predictably, finds a spitball sticking to its buttons, another shot hits his exposed neck.

Ace yelps and reflexively turns to glare at Luffy who only shrugs, shaking with suppressed laughter.

“Cut that out,” Ace hisses under his breath and Luffy only shakes his head, mouthing “wasn’t me” even though it’s a pretty damn obvious _lie_ because the kid nearly doubles over with suppressed laughter, a hand placed on his mouth to keep in his snickering. Luffy couldn’t lie to save his life, Ace would know.

Still.

Disgruntled, Ace peeks in Outlook’s general direction and gets met by a mocking stare, the blond’s thin eyebrows raised in silent question. He seems to have picked up on the shuffling noise produced by Ace’s innate inability to stay still.

“Was it you then?” Ace grumbles inaudibly despite the obvious lack of context, highly suspicious of the blond. He wouldn’t put it past Outlook to pull this sort of shit – despite putting up a “gentlemanly” front and that air of faux superiority that only rich, conceited brats tended to emit, Ace knows better than anyone out there that Sabo is a grade A douchebag. He’s a self-absorbed, domineering prick who thinks that  -

Sabo squints, at a loss of words. His mouth opens to form the word “what” when something hits the side of his cheek, sticking right to it. Portgas’ eyes go wide with surprise while Sabo pats his face and removes a slick spitball, staring at it in wonderment as though it’s a tiny UFO that’s just found a landing on the non-scarred side of his pale face.

He nearly gets whiplash at how fast he turns to glower at Luffy who appears to be trying very hard to resist punching the desk in a poor attempt to contain his laughter. Sabo wastes no time in unceremoniously ripping out a piece of paper from his beloved, neat notebook, crumpling it into a tight ball and then _pitching_ it straight at Luffy’s head.

The kid ducks out of its sharp trajectory and actually lets out a muffled laugh. Thankfully, Rayleigh doesn’t notice.

If their setting was a tad different, Ace would’ve let out a begrudgingly impressed whistle. To witness Sabo, the perfectionist who bitched and moaned about this detention as though it was the end of the world, voice small and defeated, mourning his spotless record, actively fighting back? That’s something. Not to mention the fact that this guy was sorely risking getting caught for a mere _spitball_. Even _Ace_ didn’t move from his spot and it would've been so easy for him to noiselessly get up and march towards Luffy to confiscate his artillery. Maybe swat the kid on the ear for pulling this shit.

To return the favor for his hesitance, Luffy rewards him with another shot, this one landing on the side of Ace’s nose.

Sabo snorts at his angry-slash-outraged-slash-shocked expression and shuts up immediately as another ball attaches itself to his face, this time closer to the eye.

It’s more than enough for Ace and Sabo to exchange a rushed, mutual _look_ to start working on their own weapons, stilling in their efforts whenever Rayleigh looked up from his laptop to check out the source of the suspicious crackling noise.

Once there are enough paper balls resting in their laps – the teens couldn’t keep them on the table, it’s better to be safe than sorry because while Rayleigh’s nearsighted that doesn’t mean that he wouldn’t notice the potential war weapons in the making – Sabo gives him a firm nod to which Ace responds with a flash of his thumb and they twist in their chairs, bombarding Luffy.

The kid swats at the barrage of paper but he doesn’t mind getting hit, finally letting himself go and cackling in earnest. “Missed me!” he yells when Ace’s last paper ball whirls past his ear but Sabo follows it up with one of his own – privately, Ace thinks that the dude should be on the school's baseball team because what the fuck’s up with that accuracy? It hits Luffy squarely across the nose, merrily bouncing back and then onto the paper-covered floor.

Rayleigh’s tired voice booms over the ruckus. “What are you kids doing?” the man heaves a sigh and Sabo guiltily looks up, caught with his hand raised, another ball aimed at Luffy’s grinning face. “Couldn’t you save this nonsense for after this detention’s over?”

“No, it’s–“ Sabo starts, voice trembling. The fear that he must feel is obvious in the way his body tenses up as he fidgets.

Rayleigh only rolls his eyes at Luffy’s protective “it’s just some harmless fun”. “Harmless fun or not, you do realize that this behavior is inexcusable during detention which is meant to discipline you and make you think over this kind of behavior,” Rayleigh gestures at Luffy’s desk that's drowning in a sizable pile of paper balls. The boys in question remain deceptively quiet. “Look, just clean this mess up and get the hell out of my office.” Feeling defeated, the teacher checks his massive wristwatch – there’re twenty more minutes left of this hell and he’s no good when it comes to yelling at dumb teens trying to entertain themselves. “Try not to cause any more trouble until you’re completely out of school’s bounds. And _don’t_ attract any unnecessary attention or I will end up in trouble as well. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal, sir!” Luffy salutes and bends over to scoop up the mess. Sabo hesitantly approaches the back of the classroom, picking up the balled up pages, unwrapping the ones with his genetics problems scribbled on them and stuffing them back into his pockets – shit, he’s gonna need those no matter how great it felt to tear them out.

Ace hands Sabo his pen with a small smile pulling at his lips and then looks up at Luffy who fixes the straps of his backpack, more than ready to bail. The kid seems pleased with the outcome of their two-on-one war.

“C’mon,” Ace whispers when Sabo reaches for the last page. “Let’s leave before Rayleigh changes his mind.”

* * *

 

Once they’re a safe distance away from the classroom and well on their way towards the exit, Luffy bursts out laughing, tears springing up to his eyes, “Holy crap, you guys should’ve seen your faces…!” he pulls an overly-disturbed face, trying to impersonate the older teens. “Best damn detention I’ve ever had.”

“What about the life-changing one where we started talking?” Ace laughs and pulls the short boy into a tight headlock, mercilessly noogieing at his scalp. The action makes the cackling subside but the wide grin never leaves Luffy’s bright face. “You almost hurt my feelings, Lu.”

“Yeah, but this one was, like, ten times better!” Luffy claws at Ace’s forearm but doesn’t put any actual effort into freeing himself. “Sabo’s so cool!”

“Cooler than me?” Ace tightens the one-armed hold and quickly glances at the blond who only blushes at the compliment. He’s been unnaturally quiet ever since they started walking, seemingly lost in thought.

“Of course I’m cooler than you. Is that even a legitimate question?” Sabo still submits to Portgas’ obviously intentional taunting meant to loosen him up. Perhaps Portgas isn’t as dense as he’s initially thought. “I have to admit though, that was actually pretty fun. I just hope that it won’t land us into any more trouble. We completely missed the purpose of this detention,” he trails off and pushes at the heavy glass door leading outside, waving the cleaning lady goodbye. The weather is amazing – it’s not too hot but the sun is still shining brightly in the sky, dyeing the withering trees in gold and red hues – it almost looks as though everything’s on fire.

“Oh come on, Sabo!” Luffy swats him on the shoulder none-too-gently, lips sticking out in an exaggerated pout. “Cheer up! You sound like an old man. Trust me, everything’s going to be fine. Rayleigh’s not going to report us or anything. I promise.”

“Normally when Luffy says “trust me” in these sorts of situations, you shouldn’t listen and run in the opposite direction as fast as you can,” Ace snorts, ignoring the small teen’s indignant “hey!” “But yeah, while I don’t get myself into nearly as much trouble as this dingus,” he ruffles Luffy’s hair to make amends, “I can definitely vouch for Rayleigh not ratting us out. He’s too resilient. And I’m certain that he has a soft spot for Luffy, especially after they’ve spent so many detentions together.”

 _It’s really nice of them to reassure me_ , Sabo thinks, and while it certainly helps him relax, if only a little, their words fail to completely squash down the worm of doubt wriggling in the pit of Sabo’s twisting stomach. He tries to keep his face void of emotion until they reach the empty street and this is where they’re supposed to be heading in different directions but neither Luffy, nor, surprisingly, Ace, show any signs of leaving Sabo anytime soon.

The street is empty of cars as well, deadly silent.

Sabo checks the bus timetable attached to the nearest lamppost and barely bites back a curse – he’s just missed his ride home. The bus has left seven minutes ago.

“Something wrong?” Luffy pipes up, looking around. There’s confusion on his face. “Come to think of it, where’s your ride?”

“Luffy,” Ace hisses in warning but it’s already too late.

Sabo faces the kid with a forced smile, fingers curled tight around the straps of his bag, knuckles whitening out. “Oh, uh, while they questioned me about the fight I got a call from my parents. They were notified about the brawl and, well. I guess I won’t be getting a ride back today,” he shudders at the memory of that cursed phone call. The disappointment in his father’s voice was cool and collected, and while he didn’t yell at his son, he did make it pretty clear that he’s to receive a serious punishment the moment he returns to the mansion. How he does it, is none of Sabo’s father’s concern. According to that man, Sabo’s personal chauffeur has a _very strict_ schedule to maintain and it shouldn’t surprise Sabo in the slightest that him not showing up outside when he’s supposed to – ten minutes after his last class, sharp – has resulted in this.

Being stranded.

Fuck, why does he have to live on the other side of town? No busses ever drove by his shitty neighborhood and the lonely bus stop located the closest to the Outlook manor still earned Sabo at least half an hour worth of walking. An hour, if he kept a leisure pace.

“But the busses rarely go by here,” Luffy points out despite Ace’s burning stare as he squints at the timetable. “See? They stop here like once an hour. Or two hours, depending on which one you need.”

“When’s your next bus?” Ace sighs and plops down on the rotting wooden stool that’s supposed to function as the bus stop. “You’re not from around here.”

“I’m not,” Sabo confirms with a small, annoyed sigh. Fuck his father. “You guys should go on ahead, I’ll be stuck here for a while.”

“Yeah, but how long?” Luffy presses on.

“The bus that suits me the best won’t show until past six,” Sabo checks his wristwatch – it’s a little past five o’clock. “Guess I’ll try to head to the city and then catch a taxi.” He doesn’t have the money for it but he’s not about to give out that piece of information away. Hell, in his haste to get the fuck out of his house this morning, he's left his wallet on table. Sabo honestly doubts that he has enough for a single bus fare.

He wonders if his father has cancelled his ride because the maids have discovered his abandoned wallet. It all seems… far too convenient.

“But that’s at least half an hour of waiting,” Luffy frowns and spins the timetable as if hoping to find a more-fitting time for Sabo. Despite his best efforts, no such miracle occurs. The reality is bleak – Sabo’s gonna have to sit around. What’s even sadder is that his phone is almost out of battery, so mindlessly scrolling or listening to music is out of question too.

“Right you are.”

“I’m not about to leave you here,” Luffy mumbles and crosses his arms. Sabo’s about to open his mouth to protest – if Luffy’s implying that he will wait around here with him, then he should probably stop right there -  “I don’t feel like sitting here either,” he speaks before Sabo can and then some sort of realization seems to hit the younger kid like a flash of lightning striking from clear skies. Luffy beams at the blond, “I know! Come with me! I have a bike and I could give you a ride back home.”

Sabo can’t even begin to point out the flaws in this logic, because really, biking? It’d take them at least over two hours – hey, it’s still faster than going back by the bus though. Immediately, Sabo shakes his head to rid himself of that thought. He’s not about to ask Luffy for a favor this big. The kid might be as strong as a young mule and just as stubborn but pedaling through uneven terrain with Sabo’s dead weight on the back of the bike is going to kill the kid's needle-thin legs. It doesn't help that their town's filled with hills, surrounded by mountains and forests. Sabo can’t visualize himself letting some random kid that he’s just met today drag his bony yet not-too-light ass uphill. “Absolutely not,” Sabo states and then shakes his head to emphasize his point.

Ace is the one taking over the ensuing conversation after Luffy’s upset “eeeeh, but why!?” stops ringing inside his ears. Jesus, Luffy’s loud. “Just go with it, Outlook. Either way, Luffy lives not too far from here and it’s not like you have anything better to do, right? Just come along and if you hate the idea that much, you can always head back and keep on waiting. It’s better than sitting around,” Portgas heaves himself up, stretching his back. “I seriously doubt that Lu’s even strong enough to move from the spot with you perched on the passenger’s seat.”

“What! I’m definitely strong enough to bring Sabo home! It’s not even that far away!” Luffy bristles but then turns to the blond with a sheepish smile. “Where do you live again?”

“High town district,” Sabo admits to his "rich boy" image with a sullen look painting his face as though the mere confession of his current residence brings him physical pain. 

“See? That’s all the way on the other side,” Portgas tells Luffy. “You’d collapse five minutes in.”

“I can do it!”

“You can keep on telling yourself that,” Ace is already walking in what Sabo assumes to be the direction of Luffy’s home – the “Gray terminal” trailer park. “Need I remind you what happened the last time you tried to take _me_ home?”

“That was ages ago, lay off!” Luffy shoves at Ace’s side, making the latter smile in return. They begin teasing each other and Sabo heaves a resigned sigh, sending the old stool one lingering look before making up his mind and tagging along with the playfully bantering teens, walking a few paces behind.


	5. act of kindness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> double update because im this kind  
> now crankin up on dat saboace content lol also decided on some bg zolu coz cmon. why wouldnt i put zolu in bob R E A L L Y  
> 

Sabo’s embarrassingly dull life is made up of various scenarios that he’s been painstakingly preparing over the course of the measly seventeen years that he’s spent existing. From the day of his birth, he’s been stuck in a never-ending routine like some exhausted mouse trapped in a ceaselessly spinning wheel - a strict schedule created by his unforgiving parents. Sabo knows how to act accordingly to every kind of situation out there and his responses, no matter how small or insignificant, are always carefully calculated beforehand, along with his decisions leading to taking different courses of action.

If Sabo hadn’t met these two boys, hadn’t started talking to them, right now he’d be rotting away on that wobbly stool, mindlessly watching the gold-adorned trees swaying in the wind, memorizing the colors of their withering coats sewn of small, rustling leaves and he’d be obsessively checking his wristwatch, counting down the seconds left to the arrival of his bus.

Never, not in a million years, Sabo would’ve thought himself capable of miscalculating, and yet, here he is, well on his way to the trailer park that his parents would gladly burn down to cinders given the chance, thinking of its residents as less than human, vermin of their town leeching off cash and contributing nothing to the community as a whole. Sabo could’ve never accounted on something like this, but fuck, is he glad that for once in his life he was wrong.

It feels like he’s flipping off his heartless parents just by being here and while he’s wary of the multiple shady-looking people that they pass – Luffy cheerfully exchanging hellos and goodbyes with them, sometimes stopping by to chat – he’s far more interested in observing his unfamiliar surroundings.

The “Gray terminal” looks as great as one might expect – it’s cluttered, grimy, there’s a lot of trash in the streets, plastic bags and all sorts of miscellaneous things lying around on the “front lawns” of the trailers – but to Sabo it almost feels homely. Unlike in High town, people here seem to be friendly, their pleasant interactions significantly livening up the bleak atmosphere. Sabo sees neighbors conversing while attending to their respective laundry baskets, kids in dirtied clothes playing with equally dirty pets, skipping ropes and kicking around cans, deflated balls. Some of the trailers look neater than the rest. They're decorated with intricate paper lanterns hanging off their little roofs, stairs drowning in potted plants. Sabo spots a lawn gnome or two.

The area is generally, well, it’s obvious in the neighborhood’s name, dull gray in color due to the abundance of ancient trailers but some of them manage to stick out from the rest. Their steel is dyed in neons, intricately woven lines turning the trailers into masterpieces of art. Once they pass by one of the few eye-catching trailers, Sabo’s eyes go wide with admiration – there’s a proud peacock painted on its side; the majestic bird's blue-green vibrant feathers are taking up most of the trailer’s side – and Luffy halts.

There are some people loitering by its side, young adults in appearance, and while Sabo doesn’t properly know them, he’s certain that these kids definitely go to their school. Luffy’s friends.

Sabo politely stays further away while Luffy approaches the others, greeting them warmly. Ace waves as well but decides to stay with Sabo, granting the friends some space. When the blond looks up as if to indicate that “it’s alright, you don’t have to stay behind with me”, Ace shifts his gaze aside, awkwardly scratching at the back of his head, the action making the coal-black untamable strands stand up, curling at the ends.   

“What’s that supposed to be?” Luffy leans over the shoulder of a boy with a pulled back afro and a long nose. The kid’s cargo pants and washed out T-shirt are covered in vibrant paint stains – Sabo wonders if he’s the owner of this trailer or has at least decorated it.

“It’s a mermaid!” the guy dismisses Luffy and swats at the kid’s prying fingers when the latter attempts to touch his masterpiece. “I’m going to sell it for 10k beli so you better not mess it up!”

Luffy’s nose scrunches up as he analyzes the painting. He doesn’t seem to approve. “That doesn’t look like a mermaid at all! And they’ll pay you that much for it?”

“I don’t want to hear that from a guy who draws mermaids as fish with human limbs! And cash is cash,” the artist huffs and aims the back of his blue-tinted paintbrush at Luffy’s nose. “No more errands for me for at least a few weeks. I heard that those Blackbeard creeps have been acting up and that distributing around these parts is no longer safe,” to that, the blue-haired guy leaning against the trailer, a cola bottle in hand, only rolls his eyes, muttering a disgruntled “was it ever?", taking a lengthy sip of the beverage. He seems chilled out, suspiciously so, and Sabo wonders if the man’s on something. He's already on  _high_  alert now that they’ve mentioned that ominous word - “distribution”.

Momentarily, Sabo might’ve forgotten  _where_  he is. This is still the "Gray terminal" and most of its inhabitants are jobless, acting as the town’s poor. It shouldn’t even surprise him that they might come up with less than legal means to make a living – it was only survival.

As if picking up on his distress and discomfort, the conversing teen duo and the blue-haired guy – who has definitely went to their school at some point; Sabo definitely remembers seeing the bulking dude around; but has long since graduated – turn towards him.

“You guys brought a customer,” the afro kid points out as though he hasn’t noticed Sabo awkwardly standing around, conveniently half-hidden behind Ace’s wide frame. “Outlook, really?” he directs it at Luffy who drops the friendly act immediately, something hard flashing in his brown eyes. A silent threat. The artist ignores him and slaps the paint-stained hands to his knees with a knowing smirk, “Finally showing some fight, are you? We’ve been wondering when you’d finally snap. What can I get you? Some kush, some stimulants to powder up that future-valedictorian brain of yours? Helps the concentration, it’ll loosen ya up afterwards too,” Usopp rattles off the “products” with the flourish of an infomercial salesman trying to sell vacuum cleaners.

Ace sets his jaw, looking between the younger boys while Luffy produces a strangely annoyed noise and punches his dense friend’s shoulder, making him yelp. “Sabo’s not a customer, Usopp, he’s a  _friend_. Stop saying that shit to him.”

The artist boy, Usopp, stops mid-complaint, hand cradling the injured spot. “You seriously befriended an Outlook?” he gapes as though the said blond isn’t even there and it makes Ace scowl and subconsciously shift to stand before the uneasy looking boy. “Luffy, do you have any idea what  _his kind_  would do to this place if they found out that you’ve been hanging out? The entire goddamn town sits in his father’s pocket! Are you completely off your rocker, man?”

“He saved my ass. Not like you guys would know anything about it since none of you showed up today!” Luffy protests, frowning. “I told you that if we’ve a serious job offer going on, you should always include me!”

“It was for the best that you didn’t show, bro,” the blue-haired guy finally speaks up and lowers his shades. His sclera seems reddened and his pupils are unnaturally dilated. “You would’ve blown it for us. And don’t look at me like that, everyone’s safe. Zoro got a little cut up, s’all.”

Upon hearing that, the fight leaves Luffy’s form immediately. He visibly pales, fidgeting. “Is he alright? I’m not gonna find Zoro in pieces, am I? What happened?”

“Just some minor inconveniences, nothing to worry about, man. Nami let down her guard while negotiating and you know how he is. Always has to rush in when his teammates get threatened.”

“Yeah, I – “ Luffy sighs out, tense, “I know. I should go see him.”

The blue-haired guy nods his approval, a sympathetic frown tugging at his lips. “Of course, Cap’. Attend to your friends first, though,” he dismisses and it's more than enough of a reason to finally part ways, Sabo’s mood dampening by the second.

 

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe that you’re still doing this shit,” Ace chastises, radiating worry and anger. “I thought I told you to quit this _business_ , Luffy. What if you got injured? We’ve been over this before,” he runs a shaky hand over his black hair, flattening it.

Sabo bites at his lower lip and tries very hard not to look up, unwilling to see his companions fighting. Their frustration-filled voices are more than enough to make his shoulders sag in overwhelming sadness. He’s unsure as to why he’s so affected by it. Perhaps it has to do with him relating to how Ace feels – he too is worried about Luffy’s safety and well-being. But there’s something else to it, something entirely different.

Belatedly, Sabo realizes that he’s upset because he knows that Luffy has no other choice. Not when he’s living like this, surrounded by normalized crime and anomie, trying to make ends meet.

Luffy fumes in silence, seemingly far away from reality and, by extension, Ace’s lecture – his thoughts are likely with that Zoro person. Sabo remembers the name but he isn’t too sure where he’s heard it before. Certainly, none of Luffy’s friends stood out with their grades. Sabo makes a mental note to investigate it in the future and startles when Luffy finally loses his self-imposed restrain and all but explodes into Ace’s startled face. “I’ve no other choice!” he exclaims with conviction and the words feel like boiling water dumped on Sabo’s skin. Luffy confirms his suspicions. “It’s only a few errands. As long as no one catches me doing it then who is to say that what I’m doing is wrong!?” his voice lowers, laced with an uncharacteristic wistfulness. “Gramps hasn’t been sending in the usual sum for a few months now. I want to help around the house. If I gotta distribute drugs for it then I’m fine with it.”

“But Usopp said that it’s unsafe out there – “ Ace starts but Sabo tugs on the back of his hoodie in warning, trying to make Portgas shut up. Luffy’s body looks like it’s about to snap from tension and guilt. He must feel terrible for doing this, even more so for not showing up today. Not being there for his injured friend.

Ace glances over his shoulder and noisily exhales, still more than a little tense.

“We’re here,” Luffy mumbles, stopping in front of a particularly ratty looking trailer. He climbs up its unstable stairs, kicking off a can of beer that's resting on them, straight into an overflowing trashcan stationed by the trailer’s front. The only things that balance out the pathetic visual are the paper, red lanterns winding around the trailer’s roof and laundry line, the orb-shaped decorations lazily swaying in the air, looking like tiny fireballs due to the sun that’s currently blending into the pink-orange hued horizon. The sky above could be likened to a brightly-colored piece of candy, pink and puffy clouds resembling candy floss.

Ace diligently says nothing whatsoever and Sabo spends that time analyzing Luffy’s “home”. He wonders how many people live in there – the trailer looks too damn small for comfort. Does Luffy even have his own space in there? What’s it like inside?

Despite the piqued curiosity, the sense of respect and private space won’t let Sabo thread over the threshold despite Luffy leaving the trailer’s thin door wide open. It must feel like living in a freezer during the winters. Thankfully, in their region the temperature never dropped below -5C o  .

No more than a few, dragged out minutes later, Luffy brings out an ancient bike. Despite the rusted frame, it looks sturdy, thick tires fit for biking in these parts. The kid seems to have gotten himself together, the usual smile plastered back on his face. It seems genuine enough so Sabo cannot find it in himself to complain. “Here it is, Dadan’s momma bike that will take you home,” Luffy pats the torn backseat of the teal-colored metal beast affectionately. “She’s isn’t using it any longer, so she shouldn’t notice that it’s gone.”

Sabo figures that Dadan must be the name of Luffy’s guardian. He approaches the bike, inspecting the handlebars. “No gears,” Sabo points out. “How are you going to take me uphill?”

“Told you,” Ace butts in, arms crossed, clearly waiting for a disaster to happen. Sabo rolls his eyes.

Luffy only sniggers as if the answer to that question is obvious, “With a lot of energetic pedaling, duh! Have you never ridden a bike before or what?”

“I certainly never tried to take someone taller and bigger than me halfway across the town if that’s what you’re implying,” Sabo says and then mounts the backseat, about to prove his point. “You’re gonna get where I'm coming from once you actually try.”

Ace seems infinitely amused when Luffy rises to the challenge, hopping on the already-adjusted seat, rubbing his hands together. “You’re gonna have to walk home by yourself, Ace,” he says, gripping the handlebars.

Ace beams, voice deadpan when he mock-salutes, “Of course, Cap, I’ll find my way around. Have a nice trip.”

Luffy firmly nods to himself, gaze determined, jaw set, and shoulders squared, sets his legs on the pedals and moves.

For about two meters.

“Ugh, heavy!” he winces while Sabo tries very hard not to laugh, discreetly setting down his legs for balance whenever Luffy starts swerving too much, trying his damn hardest to keep the bike going straight.

At least this is way more entertaining than waiting for the bus.

Ace doesn’t even have to pick up his pace to walk beside them, purposefully dragging his legs and siddling to their bike that's moving at a snail’s-pace. He’s fisting at the creases of material forming at his bent forearms and Sabo notices Ace chewing at his lips – he’s  _very obviously_  trying to keep in his howling laughter.

“You’re doing great, Lu,” he says, winded. “I’d say that at the pace you’re going you should reach High town in about,” he pretends to calculate it, “Two weeks. And I’m being generous.”

Luffy sticks out his tongue in response and picks up the pace. They actually manage to get a head start before the bike starts dangerously tilting to the side. Sabo braces his left leg against the shingle-dirt road, barely saving them from the impending crash. Luffy looks up at the snickering brunet. “Yeah, alright, you made your point clear. No need to rub it in, asshole!” then, Luffy turns to Sabo with the single most miserable kicked puppy dog look that he’s ever witnessed and it immediately makes the blond feel bad for inwardly laughing at the boy’s earnest efforts. He’s trying so very hard to do something nice for him despite not really knowing Sabo as a person, and yet, before he could even register it happening, he has unknowingly started siding with that Portgas asshole. Damn, now Sabo feels like a douchebag. “I’m really sorry! I wanted to get you home. My mistake,” Luffy huffs, climbing off the bike and steadying it by the rusted handlebars.

“It’s alright, Luffy,” Sabo rewards him with a tender smile. “I can still make it on time for the bus to the city.”

“But it won’t take you home.”

“That’s fine. I’ll walk,”  _and then I’ll probably return home during dinnertime which is, of course, going to turn into a weekly shaming fest_ , he grimly thinks, but doesn’t voice it out.

Luffy pins him with an indecipherable, intense stare as though he has the power to look into other people’s minds and he can clearly sense the bullshit escaping from Sabo’s mouth. His lips are pursed to show how skeptic and unsure he is. Sabo’s about to get off as well when Ace’s laughing fit finally begins subsiding and he walks towards the duo, heaving. He wipes at a straying tear and then states, “Just give me the bike, Lu. I’ll bring this idiot home and then bike back to return it to you.”

Sabo sputters at the mere implication, “ _Excuse me?_  I don’t need you to take me anywhere.”

“Yeah, well, tough luck, because,” Ace shoves the screen of his phone right into Sabo’s nose, tapping at the flashing digits of the clock, “You’re not gonna make it back to the stop even if you run. We took too long getting here. Your next ride’s in another hour and a half. So what’s it gonna be? Bus stop and chill or will you actually let someone willing to help out bring you back home without making a big deal out of it?” Ace raises an inquisitive eyebrow, pocketing his phone. Luffy looks between them as though they’re engaged in a heated ping pong match.

Waiting around for longer than it is absolutely necessary doesn’t sound too appealing, especially knowing his current situation. Besides, the sun is dipping lower by the second and Ace seems confident enough to do this, in fact, he appears to be dead set on it. Taking his sturdy frame into consideration – the teen’s built in such a way that even grownups could envy, whipped into shape by rigorous lacrosse practice –  it’s obvious that he’s more than capable of it and he isn’t bluffing or showing off either. He’s willing to do this and somehow it is more than enough for Sabo to relent. He’s already been “leaning” on Ace’s shoulder throughout the day, so he might as well take him up on the offer. Tomorrow morning, though, Sabo firmly decides that it’s going to go back to normal between them. It’s already  _weird_  that they’ve been exchanging proper sentences without any ill intentions or biting meanings behind them, for more than a few hours now.

“Do what you want,” Sabo says with a deep frown, fingers running over the metal bars of the seat. “But don’t complain to me when your legs give out on you halfway through.”

“So little faith in my legs, Outlook,” Ace comments and moves to take the handlebars yet Luffy doesn’t budge, eyes lowered and teeth worrying at his lower lip.

He seems uncertain and Ace has to snap his fingers before the boy’s scrunched up face. “Lu, you with us, buddy?”

“I,” the kid almost jumps up, “I don’t know, Ace, if Dadan sees me inside but doesn’t find the bike – “

“If you’re not up for this, it’s okay,” Sabo interrupts, something cold twisting his insides. He isn’t sure that he wants Luffy to finish that sentence. “I can wait.”

Luffy shakes his head no, “I trust Ace,” he says firmly and relinquishes his clammy grip. “You’ll be back today?”

“Of course. I promise,” Ace mounts the bike, “I’ll be back before you know it. Head to Zoro’s place, alright? I’ll see you there and then walk you back home, cool?”

Luffy hums in approval, smiling a little. The thought of seeing Zoro soon makes him ease up. “Get Sabo home safely and don’t ditch him halfway, Ace, I mean it,” he warns and waves when Ace smoothly takes off with a simple “I promise nothing” thrown over his shoulder.

Their ride is alright and the brunet goes fast enough for Sabo to worry about his own balance, unsure where to place his hands to steady himself. He tries to hold onto the cool metal of the wiry seat but his fingers cramp awkwardly, wrist turned at a weird angle. He goes for Ace’s seat next but before he can wrap his hands around its pole, Ace sighs exaggeratedly, “Don’t you even think about it. If you gotta hold onto something then feel free to grab my hips. Just don’t get too handsy,” despite not seeing Ace’s face, Sabo can visualize the dude’s shit-eating smirk.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he snorts and does as he’s told, relishing in Ace’s slight jolt of surprise. “Ticklish?”

“More like you’ve ice cubes for hands.”

“We’re going pretty fast so," Sabo points out.

Ace hums, noncommittal.

It’s a little awkward as silence washes over them. Sabo looks at the blurring golden-gray scenery as they leave the trailer site. The sky is lovely but if he looks at it for too long, it feels as though his head is spinning. He isn’t too sure if Ace is even willing to talk to him, to a guy that he, without a doubt, has hated before this morning’s fight. Hell, Sabo isn’t sure if  _he_  wants to talk to Ace. Perhaps riding this one out with no words exchanged is for the best –

“I can almost hear you overthinking, Outlook. It’s goddamn unpleasant,” Ace groans and his pedaling turns less intense – they’re going downhill. “Speak what’s on your mind.”

“I hardly believe that you’re even remotely interested in my innermost thoughts.”

Ace spares him a quick glance over the shoulder, black strands whipping in the wind. “You’re not wrong. Surprise me, though.”

“I don’t know what to say to you.”

“Anything? I know that you’re not as much of a stick in the mud as you appear to be,” Ace is quiet for a long while afterwards and right as Sabo assumes that he’s just killed it all with his awkwardness by missing some vague social cue, Ace elaborates, “It’s enough to watch you interact with Luffy to reach that conclusion.”

“So now all of a sudden you’re being perceptive?”

“I’m  _always_  perceptive when it comes to that kid and I guess, by extension, you,” the brunet admits, the tips of his ears turning pink. Sabo tries to keep his staring to a minimum. “God knows he’d get himself killed if he didn’t have others looking out for him, the complete buffoon.”

“I’d sometimes notice you two hanging out. Talking,” Sabo says, quiet. Ace appears to be listening. The streets which are bathed in the red glow of the bleeding sunset gradually become noisier as they approach the more populated areas surrounding the town square. “If I didn’t know any better I would’ve mistaken you for brothers. You’d bring him food made by your parents, right?”

“Mother,” Ace corrects emotionlessly but doesn’t settle on the topic of family, seemingly just as uncomfortable with it as Sabo gets whenever someone brings up his own heritage, “But none of it was actually made by her. Not like I could outright tell him that I went out of my way every morning to whip something up for him.”

“Why not?” Sabo frowns in confusion at that bit of information. “It’s Luffy. Sure, I may not know him too well or at all, really, but he doesn’t strike me as the type of person to reject someone’s kindness or comment on it in a negative way. You should tell him, Ace,” he fists the latter’s soft hoodie, tightening his grip.  “I know he’d appreciate that.”

It’s strange. He’s always thought of Ace as a self-absorbed, uncaring prick, yet here he is, constantly proving Sabo wrong, mercilessly shooting down his less than favorable beliefs one word and kind action at a time. Perhaps Portgas isn’t too bad, maybe he’s not even bad at all, but Sabo doesn’t want to admit to  _defeat_  just yet.

“Maybe I will sometime,” Ace hums. “I didn’t want him to think that I was looking down on him or anything like it. Far too many people do.”

“Dumbasses,” Sabo scoffs.

“You tell me, Outlook. He’s lucky to have good, reliable friends who help him out every step of the way though. I’ve no doubts in Luffy’s ridiculous strength but he tends to pick fights that he can’t win. Like he’s constantly trying to prove himself. I saw him beaten up once - It wasn’t a pretty sight. The fuckers gave him a chance to end it if he admitted to yielding and accepted his defeat but the little monkey only spat at the bastard’s feet and kneed him in the stomach. Fucking savage,” Ace stiffens beneath Sabo’s lean palm as he recalls the memory of Luffy foolishly taking on six guys all by himself, brawling until the very end like a cornered wild animal. However, "animal" isn’t the right word meant to describe someone like Luffy, oh no. If Ace had to choose one, he’d stick with beast. Monster.

Luffy’s friends rushed in at the last second, dragging the kid's half-dead ass away, while Ace…

“What did you do?” Sabo’s question doesn’t sound much like a question at all, it’s like the blond already knows the answer to it.

Ace _walked away_ , minding his own business. Cursing himself for letting this happen but at the same time hating the mere thought of getting involved. It’s obvious which one had won over in the end and his consciousness weighed a little less because of it afterwards.

“Nothing. I didn’t know him back then. His friends took care of it. I heard that there was police involved in the brawl’s aftermath.”

Sabo tugs on his hips, blunt nails digging into Ace’s sides. He’s upset, it’s pretty damn obvious. “You could’ve –“

“I  _couldn’t_ ,” Ace cuts in before the blond can get anywhere with it. “Not everyone gets off to playing a big hero. I know that this might be a difficult concept for you to process but that’s the truth and the sooner you face it – the better.”

Sabo wants to  _ask_ . He really,  _really_  does but the finality in Ace’s voice is apparent – none of his future questions will be answered and Ace'll more than likely ignore him for the rest of the ride. In turn, that'll make everything at least ten times more awkward between them afterwards. Luffy would resent that – the kid’s put so much effort into making them work together as a  _team_ , going as far as turning himself into a target.

It’s clear that Ace has his own reasons for thinking  _like that_  and Sabo sure as fuck isn’t about to pry into that mindset. Not today, at least.

“Who’s Zoro, then?” Sabo wonder, curious to find out more about Luffy’s small group of misfits. The name’s been eating away at him ever since their short yet very unpleasant encounter with Luffy’s stoner friends.

“He’s something like Luffy’s best friend,” Ace replies, loosening up. Thankful for the sudden shift of topic, he continues, “Apparently they’ve known each other for years. He and Luffy seem to be very,” there’s a beat of silence as Ace racks his brains for an appropriate term to name their odd, immensely co-dependent relationship, “…close.”

“Luffy seems to care a lot about him,” Sabo muses outloud, turning back to observe an elderly woman crossing the street with a small girl holding onto her hand. It takes so little to show some kindness. The sight makes Sabo smile and he leans into Ace’s back even further, shielding himself from the wind.

“He does. I can definitely see why, though; they’re basically attached at the hip,” Sabo hears Ace clearing his throat. The subtle shift of his muscles tells Sabo to back off – Ace seems uncomfortable with the blond breaching his personal space. “Zoro’s a good guy. Personally, I like him the most out of Luffy’s friends. Dependable, honorable. Keeps Lu safe. I mean, that could be said about all of them, but Zoro’s something else entirely,” Ace turns back with a confident smile, the remains of pink sunlight reflected in his steel-colored eyes. “You’ll see what I mean once you meet them.”

“Tell me more about them,” Sabo tilts his head to the side and the soft action makes Ace whip around, the tires of the bike catching onto a protruding sewer lid.

Ace clears his throat again and gives Sabo a brief rundown on Luffy’s friends, trying to keep his introductions very general, telling Sabo that he doesn’t want to give out any wrong impressions. Besides Zoro, there’s Nami who is on the cheerleader squad and would shamelessly charge you for looking at her in the wrong way. There's Vivi who hangs out with Luffy less than the rest and who, apparently, Sabo recognizes, having talked to the blue-haired girl a few times during various science fairs but never managing to catch her name. There’s the artsy guy Usopp who is actually really decent once you earn his trust and there’s Chopper, the resident sweetheart and Luffy’s personal walking, talking first aid kit. There are Franky and Robin who have already graduated but still kept close ties with Luffy – especially Franky, who, despite making a solid, and most important of all, legal living, has developed an attachment to his trailer and to his friends living there, refusing to move out. There’s the weird musician Brook who, much like Franky, has wound up at the "Gray terminal" in search of inspiration.

There’s Sanji Vinsmoke and Ace turns red at the mere mention of his name.

Sabo tries to fight off his knowing, teasing smirk despite Ace not seeing it. “What’s Sanji like?” he asks with an air of feigned innocence and despite Ace telling Sabo to fuck the hell off, his neck blazing hot, he still somehow manages to stutter through his introduction.

Sanji seems to have had charmed his way into Ace’s heart on the latter’s second year of high school with his to die for brownies – apparently “the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach” saying rang very true in Ace’s case – and his long track-team legs. One day, Ace was going over his lacrosse drills, Sanji was going over his warm up laps, they glanced up at each other, and then, somehow, a romance was born. That’s the general gist of it, Sabo decides, without Ace having to clear anything up.

“You’re still dating?” Sabo boldly questions, outright telling Ace that he’s picked up on the other’s “subliminal” messages.

“You’ve no delicacy whatsoever, do you, Outlook?” Ace grinds out and makes a sharp turn. In turn, Sabo claws onto his hips for dear life.

“Never heard of it,” the blond exhales shakily. That was close. “So are you?”

“It was over in like... a few weeks? Didn’t really think it through before popping the question. He was my type appearance-wise,” Ace shrugs, “But we didn’t have much in common to talk about.”

“Can’t wait to see this Sanji person,” Sabo says with a light laugh, “I’m curious to see the "Unattainable" Portgas D. Ace’s type.”

“Wait, they still call me that?”

“You betcha.”

“Gross!” Ace yells out. “Can’t they leave a guy alone?”

“Seems not,” Sabo closes his eyes. It’s gotten a little cold and the fact that he’s wearing a thin navy cardigan doesn’t help – he’s chilled to the bone and they’re only halfway there. “Just pretend to date someone else? Just throwing around ideas here.”

Ace seems to turn it over before dismissing it with a rough shake of his head. “Not gonna work out. Who would I even, pray tell, fake date?”

“Uh, someone your type?”

“Find me a stunningly beautiful blond with legs for days and I might actually consider it,” Ace dismisses with a dignified huff which makes Sabo feel a certain type of way because, what do you know, he fits at least a third of those words that Ace just rattled off. Or maybe one. He’s blond. Uh.

Why’s he thinking about that again?

The cold must’ve gotten to his brain, Sabo firmly decides and keeps his gaze ahead, zooming in on the suspended neon sign of the nearest convenience store. “Stop there,” he tells Ace, tugging at the hoodie to get his attention. “I want to buy something.”

“You really think you got the time for that?” It’s already dark and the tall street lamps ahead are beginning to shine a pale orange. “Won’t your parents freak?”

“It’s just a convenience store run, Ace, I honestly don’t think that my parents can get anymore pissed than they already are,” which is a total lie, because Sabo can imagine what sort of hell they’re going to raise once they see their deviancy-riddled son turning up on the doorstep with some beefy dude and an ancient thrift-shopped bike.

Ace does as he’s told and patiently waits outside while Sabo marches to the nearest vending machine, searching all of his pockets for spare change. When he opens his bag, he finds some beli lying around at the very bottom of it and it’s more than enough for Sabo to purchase not one, but two cups of tea. The vending machine spews out the spare change meant for his ride back home.

“Thanks,” Ace says without any bite to it, readily accepting Sabo’s gift and downing half of it in one go despite the steam wafting off the _hot_  drink's surface. Even though Ace never tried to complain, Sabo can still tell that Ace is seriously worn out, the roots of his dark hair slick with sweat, his shallow breath coming out in puffs of white. They spend the next few minutes in the semi-silence of the surrounding traffic, watching the street, for once completely comfortable in each other’s presence. It lasts until Ace looks Sabo’s way, crumples the white plastic cup and tells him to get on – they still have quite a few kilometers left to their goal.

“No, I think I’ll catch a ride back from here,” Sabo tells Ace, scrolling down his phone and checking the assortment of busses and trolleys before his phone battery dies completely. “You seem tired. Take a break and go back to Luffy. His neighborhood doesn’t seem to be too safe at night.”

“I promised the kid that I’d bring you home,” Ace frowns, face ghostly-pale due to the sickly green light emanating from the suspended logo of the convenience store. “That means I’m gonna have to take you all the way back to your fancy ass mansion and leave only after I make sure that you’ve safely entered the house.”

“I’m not a kid, I can make my way back without you having to guard me,” Sabo quips, disposing of the plastic cup. He locates the bus stop which he needs right across the slowly crowding street – it’s the beginning of rush hour.

The mutual understanding that they’ve managed to achieve crumbles apart to ash and dust, dissolving before Sabo’s eyes when Ace scoffs and says, “Are you seriously  _embarrassed_  to show me to your parents or something? What, the Outlooks can’t bring someone  _poor_  over?”

That crude statement triggers something deep in Sabo’s heart as he smashes the side of his fist into the wall of the store, making passersby glare his way. Ace’s eyes go wide in surprise, body tensing as though subconsciously preparing for a fight.

Sabo’s voice is deceptively calm when he finally musters the courage to look up. “ _Never_  say that to me again, Portgas.”

“I –“ the automatic apology dies down in Ace’s constricting throat and he merely kicks back the bike’s stand in reply. Sabo’s quiet anger cuts like a heated knife, hurting him for reasons unknown. It’s not like Ace truly cares for the other, it’s just that, well. Perhaps Ace has secretly hoped that they could be something close to  _friends_  since Luffy has taken a liking to the new guy and all. It’s his fuck up, but he doesn’t want to admit that – they already have a lengthy backstory filled with passive-aggressive animosity between them and Ace's unease has everything to do with it. “Whatever,” Ace calls out and moves ahead, pedaling slowly. “Just don’t get yourself stabbed out there, Outlook.”

“Don’t be a dick,” Sabo groans in response, staring ahead. “And drop the last name nonsense, I’m Sabo. S-a-b-o.”

“Cool. Later,” Ace throws over a shoulder, picking up speed, “ _Sabo_ ,” he adds in a mocking tone at the same time the blond wishes him a good night, Ace’s name rolling off his tongue like something venomous, meant to be spat out asap. Ace gets a distinct feeling that he’s being flipped off as well.

So apparently Outlook’s sensitive about the whole “rich boy” label. Ace can’t really see  _why_  – if he were swimming in cash, he’d be out of this town in a blink of an eye, giving his mother the happy life that she’s always deserved. Perhaps he’d even sacrifice himself for her well-being and invest into long distance journeys, into moving back with his useless father. Anything to make her happy.

But Sabo’s hated for money. For his boldness, his smarts. His talents, things that are regarded as good. There’s so much pointless hate going on that sometimes Ace feels smothered in this terrible, envy-consumed community, in NWH. But he’s a hateful person too, he hates himself, his inability to be tactful, inability to forgive and forget, so he can’t say jackshit about it – he’s not about to become a fucking hypocrite.

There’s a boy standing on the sidewalk, crying his heart out. He’s alone. Ace stops before him to ask the kid what’s wrong, sits the lost child on the back of Luffy’s junk of a bike and brings him back to his panicked mother.  _Kindness costs so little when it shouldn’t cost at all_ , Ace thinks bitterly as he declines the distraught mother’s offers to at least treat her child’s savior to a warm drink on this chilly October afternoon, and takes off in the direction of Zoro’s flat, legs aching in protest. He probably would’ve ended up pulling a muscle if he actually tried to keep his promise with Luffy – Sabo’s flat ass is heavier than it looks.

Tomorrow’s the weekend. At least there’s no torturous lacrosse practice waiting for him – only the quality time which he’ll get to spend with his lovely mother.


	6. sleepover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh sorry that the update took so long, ive been busy with exam prep and stuff so here's an extra long update  
> the updates should become more frequent sometime after christmas?

 

Before Ace knows it, the trees completely lose their golden leaves and the temperature drops to the point where hoodies just don’t cut it. It’s November when his mother finally steels herself enough to step inside his cluttered cave to shove an impressive assortment of fluffy scarves, hats and warm gloves into Ace’s overflowing closet, nearly getting buried in the process. He tells her that  _it’s fine_  even though his ears have been freezing off for about a week now, but his mom calls bullshit immediately.

“I don’t need this “tough boy” act, Ace,” she huffs the following morning and tugs her rebellious son back inside by the hood of his coat, making him stumble. While Ace complains, she wraps a checkered, blanket-sized shawl over his exposed neck. The air is thick with fog that gets into his mouth and chills his very lungs, the humidity tasting off on his tongue. Ok, maybe going out without any extra clothes on is a mistake, especially in this kind of weather. “You can never be too cool for good health.”

“Mom, close the door, you’re letting the warm air out!“

Rouge takes his palms instead and shoots her son a flat stare. “What are these?” she sputters at his fingerless gloves, tugging on the black material. “Is this some kind of fashion statement? You’re going to freeze your fingers off, young man!”

“Ma – “

“No, “Ma”. I’m not letting you go until you’re huddled up.”

“I’m gonna be late!” Ace whines, fixing the strap of his backpack and impatiently shifting his weight to illustrate his point.

“Should’ve thought about it before you decided to sneak out without any season-appropriate attire on.” She wrestles a beanie onto his head. His hair's still a little damp from the shower. “Don’t fuss. I’ll give you a ride if anything.”

Ace balks, “No thanks, I’d rather not have  _my mother_  take me to school.”

Rouge looks up in confusion. “And what’s wrong with me taking my baby to school, exactly?”

“Nothing,” Ace quickly reassures, “Just that, you know, they’re going to make fun of me for like a week afterwards.”

“Teenagers are so weird,” his mother frowns at that statement. Ace agrees wholeheartedly but he’d much rather skip the first period altogether than roll up at the main entrance with his mom behind the wheel. For some reason that's considered a minor blow to one’s social status.

No wonder Outlook gets flak for this nonsense.

His mom finally relents and unhands her son, only the tip of Ace’s nose visible from between the layers of fabric. He looks like a toddler wrapped up for winter, ready to head outside for the first time ever to play with the nonexistent snow. If Luffy was here, he’d be more than down to build a snowman out of dirt and leaves. The mere mental visual of the younger kid trying to construct something from dirt and then whining about it not working out makes Ace snort as he loosens the death trap around his neck.

His mother calls out to him from the threshold, “I’ll be home today so make sure you get back in time for lunch, okay?  _Don’t_  take off the scarf, love you!”

 

 

* * *

 

When he enters the school building, Ace attracts only minor whispering behind his back, being "popular" and all. He loves his mom and he’s going to be safe if she wants him to be, even if her idea of “safety” is very different from his.

“Where’s the deer sleigh, snowman?” Outlook teases while Luffy spends at least three minutes laughing at his expense, holding onto his stomach. “I didn’t know that it’s Christmas already. Would’ve brought my carol booklet.”

Since he can hardly emote with three layers obscuring his face and whatnot, Ace shoots the blond his harshest glare and flips him off for good measure.

Sabo’s been a part of their no-longer duo ever since that fateful detention.

Luffy  _adores_  him, it’s clear as day, and the two take great pleasure in teasing Ace on daily basis. The latter thinks that it’s all thanks to the pompous blond who is undeniably a shitty influence to Luffy, but no matter how much he grumbles or how often goes out of his way to show that he disapproves of this arrangement – Sabo constantly sets his tray next to Luffy’s during their lunchbreaks and that time used to be reserved for Ace and Luffy  _alone_  – the obnoxious blond stays. Luffy’s friends warm up to the guy as well, blinded by his supposed kindness and strong sense of justice. He hits it off with Zoro _immediately_  and if  _that_  algae approves of someone, which happens quite rarely, it means that they’re free to become a part of Luffy’s life. And Luffy wants Sabo in his life and right next to his locker, every morning, at 7:50 am sharp.

It’s not like Sabo minds the kid’s pushiness and he enjoys Luffy’s company just as much. It baffles Ace because the blond looks like someone who gets off to having political debates and heatedly discussing climate change but with Luffy it’s like he changes completely. He, god forbid, starts acting his own age – a cheerful teenager eagerly exchanging strange stories with his newfound friend.

It’s only after Luffy calls Sabo something close to  _a brother_  that Ace finally relents, if only a little. He swallows down his injured pride, steels his frayed nerves and approaches the blond to apologize, all for Luffy’s sake, of course.

“I’m sorry that I acted like a prick,” Ace unwillingly mumbles, cheeks reddening with flushing shame. He shifts his weight, the tip of his sneaker brushing over the dirty tiles. “Not like you were any better,” he then adds under his breath.

Unfortunately for him, the menace overhears it. “Did you just backhand me with your apology,” Sabo doesn’t deem his existence worthy of a mere glance, shutting the metal door of his locker with more force than necessary.

“Fine! I guess I suck at apologizing!” the brunet throws his hands in the air, exasperated already. Fuck! This asshole is going to kill him. Hell, fuck _that_ , it’ll definitely kill Sabo to  _lower his expectations and perhaps admit that he was wrong just this once._

“Are you expecting me to say that you don’t? Because that’s not going to happen,” Sabo raises one perfectly-shaped eyebrow at Ace’s “guilty” exposition, clutching the Chem book closer to his sweater-vest covered chest. God, what a fucking nerd. Ace still reels at the concept of them hanging out, with or without Luffy. “I’m not much of a liar.”

“ _Listen_ ,” Ace slowly inhales, but he has to give Sabo credit – the kid is yet to leave him behind with some bullshitted excuse of being late to places or having to do something or whatever. “We were both in the wrong, alright? It feels horrible to say sorry for having an opinion.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Ace, I guess we’re all entitled to our own opinions even if they’re fucking wrong,” Sabo hisses, the tip of his pale nose nearly brushing over Ace’s with how close he leans in to hiss at him. The freckled teen barely restrains the urge to roll his eyes – his point, once again, has flown somewhere above the idiot’s head.

He over-dramatically turns on his heel to stomp away but Ace is not going to go down without a fight, snatching at Sabo’s thin wrist. There’s some space between his thumb and index finger from where they’re encircling the blond’s bony wrist – does the kid eat, like, at all? He’s almost worse off than Luffy. “You’re a goddamn stubborn asshole, you know that, right?”

“Takes one to know one.”

“I’m trying to be decent here- “

“Oh, that’s great, you’re finally seeing the errors of your ways. Shall I give you a medal for this sudden change of heart?”

Annoyed, Ace tightens his grip when he feels Sabo trying to wrench the bony arm away, wiry muscles flexing. He looks pissed off and upset – still clearly not over Ace’s dumb comment from that night. But it’s not like he’ll ever speak up or admit to having hurt feelings, he’s far too fucking prideful for that. Ace does not need to know him as a person to see this much at least. “A truce, then. I’m not going to keep on trying to chew you out but you gotta back down as well. This dumb fighting,” Ace huffs as Sabo stills, finally listening. “It’s only hurting Luffy. I believe that neither you nor I want that. So let’s at least try to get along for his sake, ok? I’m really uncomfortable with having you around because I can always tell that if I am to say something you’re just going to act like a dick, bite me and make things even more awkward than they already are.”

Sabo’s shoulders hunch after Ace is done with his grand, supposedly moving speech, blond curls obscuring his angular profile. Ace patiently waits for his reply but beneath the surface he’s twitchy as fuck - he's positively boiling. A few teenagers shoot questioning looks at Ace’s grip so he lets go as if burned. Sabo glances at the whispering teenagers, clutching onto the book and his notes even tighter to shield himself. He looks ready to pass out right then and there, paling significantly, so Ace glares their way to make the teens shut the fuck up- they’ve more important things to talk about. He doesn’t need outsider influence. “Fine,” Sabo says in a clipped tone, inspecting his shoes. “I can tolerate you for Luffy. You were there first either way, I guess,” he frowns at his admittance, nose scrunching up in a cute way. “But do not ask me to apologize. I don’t want your apologies either, Ace, so just… save it,” he trails off, face coloring a bright pink. If he lifts his shoulders any further they’re going to reach his earlobes. “We’re both a little hotheaded.”

“What’s that?” Ace grins, “Do I hear a confession?”

Sabo startles at that, worriedly scanning his surroundings. “Keep your voice down, idiot, someone might take it the wrong way!” he smacks his book into Ace’s front, satisfied by the startled “oof!” that it earns. “It’s like you want me to change my mind.”

Ace chooses to ignore it, sticking out his hand in front of Sabo. “Whatever. Truce?”

For a while, Outlook stares at it with the sort of intensity that only comes with one’s resolve and values being tested to the extreme, but he sucks it up and shakes on it, grip firm. “Yeah. Truce.”

Ace doesn’t know how he went about apologizing to the asshole without popping something in the process or exploding like some supernova powered entirely by rage but he sucked it up and proved that he was the bigger man by making the first move and finally burying their “battle axe”; the rivalry bullshit based on absolutely nothing other than some varying ideals and bad moods.

At least now Sabo doesn’t try to chew him out on daily basis despite the occasional harmless jibing.

Luffy’s proud of his “brothers” and their slow but significant progress. Sometime during week three of their bizarre companionship, Ace begins to begrudgingly enjoy Sabo’s company and warm up to him, cursing the fact that he and Sabo are way more alike that he’s initially expected. He even feels a little off when the blond skips a few days of school due to a minor food poisoning. The empty seat at their lunch table is glaringly obvious and Luffy mopes around for the rest of the break, flopping over the stool, but doesn’t spring up any dumb ideas like paying the blond a surprise visit or something along those lines. They both know that Sabo’s parents wouldn’t appreciate it. In fact, subconsciously they know that they’d make everything so much worse for Sabo – it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that those people are in full control of the blond’s life. They rarely hang out after school because of that, Sabo’s dumb chauffeur insistently signaling for his charge to hurry the hell up if by any chance their goodbyes take a little too long.

Ace flips the guy off once. It feels pretty damn liberating.

On the following day, Sabo punches him in the arm with a scandalized “I can’t believe you actually did that!” and then promptly bursts out laughing, startling Ace into a stunned silence – honestly, he’s expected some serious scolding. After that incident, he and Sabo grow a tiny bit closer.

Fondly, Ace shakes his head and returns to the present, flinging the scarf at Luffy’s grinning face. “Let’s hurry or we’re gonna be late and I’m not about to sit through another scolding for my tardiness.”

Luffy goes on ahead with a light skip to his step but Sabo stays behind unasked, picking a leaf out of Ace’s hair. “Guess it’s not Christmas after all.”

“What is it with you and holidays?”

“I can’t believe that you just asked me, an overworked student, this question,” Sabo snorts, turning the leaf over in his hands. “I like winter.”

“You like getting your ass dumped into snow and then buried?” Ace mutters incredulously as he fishes out his books.

Sabo blinks in confusion. “Is that a trick question or a threat?” at Ace’s surprised look, he laughs nervously, “People do that?”

“All the damn time. You’re goddamn lucky that you never get to walk home. Knowing your reputation, I’d say that you would’ve been buried at least five years ago.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but for once I’m glad that I have someone picking me up after school.”

Ace laughs, sorting through his mess. He collects the love letters for lunch entertainment, “Luffy’s going to flip once he finds out you’ve never taken a swim in the snow. Don’t worry, he’ll christen you real good once there’s a tiny layer on the ground.”

“I’d rather not.”

“That’s weak person talk.”

“That’s  _sane_  person talk, Portgas,” Sabo leans into the cool metal, shooting him a plain look. “To me, it sounds like three weeks of bedrest and chicken soup.”

“And no class,” Ace smirks up at him with a playful eyebrow wiggle as he slams the locker door shut.

“I’d rather go to class than spend three weeks with my family,” Sabo spits bitterly and that’s the end of that. They collect their things and then part ways at the end of the hallway, Sabo going left while Ace heads towards the stairs.

Way to make things awkward. And here he was aiming for some harmless fun. Ace makes a mental note to be more careful about things like that in the future and goes over his “love mail”, checking for the more interesting pen names – some of these are absolutely hilarious. The more dramatic the poems, the more he likes them.

 

 

* * *

 

Today, Sabo’s chauffeur does not show up due to some unexpected illness.

“Bring him my impressive assortment of scarves next time,” Ace snickers as they head to the park – it’s an unspoken agreement that Ace and Luffy will wait with Sabo until his next bus. They’ve an hour left to spare. “To keep him toasty.”

“No way!” Luffy complains as he tugs off Ace’s scarf, wrapping it around his neck instead – he looks cold and somehow it does not surprise the older boys; Luffy’s coat is at least a few sizes too big for him and it doesn’t appear to be too thick. “He doesn’t need cool stuff.”

Ace kisses his scarf goodbye; he knows that Luffy will most likely refuse to return it until the end of the cold season. It’s not like he minds plus that scarf is old and brings back some… memories from his past. He’d rather have someone else wear it than let it collect dust and dead moths in the deepest pits of his closet. How his mom managed to dig it out he will never know.

“That scarf is like from early 2000s,” Sabo comments offhandedly so Ace immediately has to accuse him of implying that he isn’t “hip, cool and up with the times”.

“Please stop talking, if I have to hear one more unironical “dawg” from you, my ears will commit seppuku,” Sabo scrunches up his nose in distaste, rolling his eyes for emphasis. He fools no one, though, not with that discreet smile.

“Why would they commit Sudoku?” Luffy wonders with no sarcasm whatsoever and then gets distracted by some swings.

Ace runs after him while Sabo approaches at a more leisure pace, watching the teens fondly while picking at the hems of his leather gloves. His black wool coat seemingly sucks in the bleak sunlight and Ace finds himself staring at the tall lonely figure awkwardly standing around, nearly getting kicked in the face when Luffy enthusiastically slides down the slide backwards while Ace was still trying to climb it.

“Sabo, get your butt here!” Luffy demands excitedly and tries to drag Ace down the slide, fighting for dominance, struggling to reach the top first. “You look like you’re mothering us.”

Sabo leans against the monkey bars, arms crossed over his chest. “Someone has to make sure you guys don’t fall over and get booboos.”

Ace lets go of the slide in favor of grabbing Luffy’s shin and they tumble down in a heap of limbs, the younger teen letting out a high-pitched squeak of delight. “Too cool to have fun with us, mother-dear? Growing old?”

“Don’t speak to your mother in that way, young man, or you’re grounded,” Sabo laughs and it makes Ace grin as well. In his lap, Luffy squeezes at his cheeks, shoving his chin upwards.

“You’re gonna have to catch us first!” Luffy cackles, finally clambering up the slippery plastic slope, using Ace’s back for a boost.

Sabo lets himself get provoked into it and he readily takes the tiny stairs, nearly bumping his forehead against the castle-like roof of the playground in the process. Luffy and Ace are far too fast for Sabo to catch, climbing over different obstacles with ease that comes with years of practice, taunting Sabo for his struggles. Privately, Ace wonders if it’s the guy’s first playground experience and listens to Luffy encourage the blond, perched on the very top of a rope ladder suspended between two poles, legs swinging energetically.

Sabo seems to be having the time of his life, grin so wide that his cheeks dimple, distracting the freckled teen. Ace barely notices the tall boy changing his priorities as he moves away from the impossible ladder and then towards the slide, pushing Ace’s seated ass down. The brunet lashes out at the last moment, taking Sabo down with him. The latter falls with a loud, startled gasp, ramming into Ace’s chest. The combined weight and the speed of their slide is more than enough to send them sprawling out on the shingle backwards, Ace cushioning Sabo’s fall.

Sabo heaves himself up, using Ace’s bent legs as support and makes a face, “I think you cracked my ass, man,” he says with a slight hiss. Ace knows that he should feel bad for his instincts kicking in at the last moment but he bursts out laughing nevertheless. Not at Sabo’s pain though, that part sucks and all, but hey, all first-time experiences on playgrounds require bruises.

“You shoulda seen your face!” Ace cackles while Sabo stares him down with flushed cheeks, hair all over the place. “The moment you realized you were gonna fall, oh my god!”

The brunet clutches his stomach and continues to roll around on the shingle while Sabo slowly picks himself up. In the distance, Luffy jumps off the ladder, rushing to their side. “Everything alright?” he asks worriedly while Sabo pokes Ace’s cackling form with the tip of his shoe.

“If he acts like this on daily basis, then everything’s alright. Besides my cracked ass,” Sabo touches at the tender spot but Luffy only tilts his head, snorting.

“So in other words, no changes,” he states and it makes Ace howl even louder, tears springing up to his eyes.

“You’ve the sense of humor of a five year old,” Sabo tells the writhing figure, kicking at some shingle to bury Ace’s legs in it.

“No fair,” Ace rasps out, wiping at his watering eyes. “Luffy does too and you’re not burying  _him_.”

“It’s because Sabo likes me better, dummy,” Luffy sticks out his tongue at him, wrapping his skinny arms around the tall boy’s torso like some clingy monkey.

“That’s right, he does,” Sabo confirms with an amused snort and then moves the foot aside once he realizes that Ace isn’t grabbing at it to stop him from moving it and burying him in even more tiny rocks, rather he’s untying his shoelaces, “You’re illustrating my point.”

Ace pounces and unties his other shoe while Luffy laughs himself silly and then orders them to head to the swings.

 

 

* * *

After Luffy nearly flings himself into the sun at maximum velocity, the teens agree to calm down and just talk. Apparently their goofy playground chase took no more than fifteen minutes and the bus still wouldn’t show for quite a while. Sabo carefully positions himself in front of Luffy’s seat so that that the kid can’t swing too high – in his excitement, he didn’t even notice the suspicious groaning of the grease-slicked chains of the swings until it was a bit too late. The younger kid looks bored out of his mind while Ace and Sabo discuss the upcoming tests and quizzes since it was already nearing  _that time_  of the semester. They seem engrossed in the topic. Luffy kicks around at the damp sand, trying very hard not to think about school in general, the idea of studying making him ill.

“Have you tried doing some research, then?” Sabo asks Ace, who pales at the mention of his upcoming linguistics and literature tests. “Reading the summaries isn’t enough to get good grades, you know.”

“The stuff they give us is really boring. I don’t understand how anyone can enjoy it? Why do we even need to analyze the classics? Everything’s really vague, hard to relate to and up for interpretation. When you think about it, there’s absolutely nothing solid in these plot tests,” Ace rolls his eyes. His Lit teacher is obsessed with the vaguest, dumbest interpretations and she always has to give them at least three pages worth of questions. Figuring out semiotics is lame – those authors died decades ago. No one could actually tell what they meant by writing one thing or another – did it ever occur to the literature-obsessed fans that perhaps the curtains were simply fucking blue and did not symbolize the main character’s depression or sadness?

“I didn’t read the “Withering Heights” because I enjoyed it either. It’s just… something that you gotta do. Sometimes you have to force yourself to do the stuff that you don’t like for a better grade, there’s no shortcut around it.”

“I feel like we’re breaking the fourth wall with this education system garbage,” Ace snorts, “A crack in the matrix or not, I can’t fucking memorize stuff. I’m not even sure what I should pay attention to, which details and all.”

Luffy tilts his head back, groaning audibly, “Enough already! You two are giving me a headache with this lit talk! I don’t even wanna think about it!” He then lies back on the swings, holding onto the chains for support. The tips of his hair brush over the sandy ground. “It’s fine as long as the grade’s passable. No idea what I’m going to do with the math quiz next week,” he kicks his legs in frustration and sits up with one smooth pull. “Makes my head hurt! All those numbers and equations, ugh, I suck at math.”

Ace frowns, staring at the younger boy in concern. “Why didn’t you say anything, Lu? I could teach you, math’s pretty easy once you get the hang of it.”

“I’m _never_  gonna get the hang of it,” Luffy whines and starts swinging again to distract himself. School’s _lame._  Talking about it after the end of the class? Even more so. “Two plus two equals five, end of the story.”

“You’re setting yourself up for failure,” Ace readjusts himself on the other swing, trying to take a better look at the fussy kid. “You can learn it before the quiz if you at least try to study.”

“Oh yeah? Think it’s that easy? Give me three examples of allegory, then,” Luffy shouts his way, puffing out his cheeks.

Ace blinks, a little annoyed, “What?”

“You can’t! Same with me and math,” tilting back dangerously, Luffy adds, “I don’t even remember what allegory is,” he trails off as wind hisses in his ears, the chains beginning to creak once more.

Sabo sighs, rubbing his forehead. “It’s like a metaphor for the real world,” he explains, “I don’t think you two will survive this quiz period, sorry.”

“Stabbing myself in the eye would be less painful,” Ace murmurs moodily while Luffy shouts that he’s survived through more than this before and that he’s not about to go down without a fight.

“I can teach you,” Sabo shrugs, taking a cautious step back when Luffy’s boot nearly catches his nose. “Then no one will have to punch the test and hope for the best or stab themselves with pens. I’m more efficient in literature, though, but if we did a study group then Ace could take over the math part. It’s a win-win situation.”

Abruptly, Luffy rams his thin legs into the ground, halting the swings by kicking waves of sand into the air. Sabo barely ducks out of the way. “Go on,” he encourages, dark eyes oddly intense.

“The three of us should study. Together. After school,” Sabo slowly clarifies.

Luffy beams immediately, filtering out the word ‘study’ and replacing it with ‘hang out’. They’re going to have a blast! “I’m in!”

Meanwhile, Ace thinks about their current situation more realistically. “Yeah, sounds alright, but where should we head to? It’s going to take us hours, especially with this nimrod here,” he points at Luffy who yells out an offended “hey!”, but Ace ignores him altogether, thinking. “Your place is out of the question.”

Sabo stiffly nods at the on-point assumption, a little saddened. Luffy hums in agreement, “Mine’s no good either.”

Two pairs of eyes then turn to the freckled teen, blown wide with expectation. The boys nearly appear to be vibrating, waiting for the final verdict, and Ace’s shoulders slump forward as he sighs. He gives in to the peer pressure, “Fine, I get it! We’re going to my place,” Luffy cheers loudly at his offer – the kid loves going to Ace’s house for reasons that are yet to be known to the aforementioned teen – but he gets cut off. “It’s just that my mom’s gonna be around today and I don’t wanna bother her so we’re gonna have to keep very quiet, alright,  _Luffy_?” the latter mimes zipping his mouth, grin still slapped on his lips.

Picking up on Ace’s blatant reluctance, Sabo awkwardly rubs at his forearm, shifting his weight, “Look, we don’t really have to if there’re any problems – “

“No,” Ace shakes his head, a little more determined. “I’m not used to inviting others over, s’all.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Then what are we waiting for!?” Luffy hops off the groaning swings, stalking to Ace to haul him up. “Let’s go right now!”

The older teens sputter when the kid begins dragging them away to the entrance of the park. “Wait, now!?” Sabo blinks rapidly, barely finding his footing due to Luffy’s fast pace. “But we’re yet to notify his mom! Won’t that be rude?”

“It’s going to be fine,” Luffy promises with a soothing smile, dragging out the final word. “Mrs. Portgas is the best, you’ll see.”

“Just go with it,” Ace shrugs it off after Sabo redirects the incredulous stare his way, pinning him down as if mutely demanding for Ace to speak up, confirm or deny Luffy’s words.

 

 

* * *

 

It’s far from  _fine._

To say the least, Mrs. Portgas looks surprised to find guests after Ace guiltily rings the doorbell. There’s a peach-colored apron wrapped around her petite form and a greasy ladle resting in her free hand, propped against the doorframe. Her tousled housewife appearance combined with the heavenly scent coming from the house informs the boys that she’s been deeply engrossed in making lunch.

She still flashes a kind, genuine smile and steps aside to grant entry, “Come in, come in! You must be cold,” Ace’s mom ushers them into the hallway like a row of ducklings, quickly disappearing in one of the bigger rooms – Sabo assumes that’s where the kitchen is. “Ace, honey, why didn’t you say anything about bringing over friends?” Rouge calls out. Ace flushes yet says nothing, peeling off his coat instead. Luffy beats him to it and throws his oversized outwear at Ace’s startled face like he’s some sort of human-shaped hanger. “Oh no, I don’t think there’ll be enough for all of you,” the woman’s distress is clear in her soft voice. It’s followed up by more noise – the clanging of a lid being lifted off a pot, running water.

“I got this,” Luffy assures with a wink and quickly toes off the dirty boots, sliding towards the kitchen with his socks. Sabo takes a moment to slowly unbutton his sweltering wool coat, back tensing as he listens to Luffy buttering up Mrs. Portgas, complementing the scent of the homemade food and praising her ceaselessly. She seems to know Luffy from before, asking the boy about his day and home life in general. Mrs. Portgas even offers him to taste the sauce of the simmering pasta – an offer that the younger kid immediately accepts, nearly moaning at the heavenly taste that greets his tongue.

The woman seems super nice, and yet…

“What’s wrong?” Ace asks Sabo after he’s done putting away their shoes, searching for slippers – two pairs since Luffy never bothers, “You’re taking years.”

Sabo stiffens up at being called out, gaze worried when he glances up at Ace, teeth snagging at his lower lip, “Is she mad at us? For barging in uninvited.” He shudders at the thought – parents are difficult to read like that. He knows that  _his_  mother would’ve kicked them out at a moment’s notice, but not without pulling some unexpectedly welcoming act first. She takes pleasure in humiliating others like that. He knows that not all parents do that sort of thing, not all of them are twisted and hateful, certainly not Mrs. Portgas, but still, subconsciously – Sabo’s nervous and he cannot deny it.

Ace snorts at that, patting Sabo on the tense shoulder. His grip is warm, soothing. Grounding. Immediately, some of the tension curled tightly in the pit of his stomach unravels. “You’re kidding, right? She could never be mad for something like this, in fact, she sounds happy,” Ace grins when he hears his mother and Luffy share a genuine laugh. “We don’t usually get guests. She’s only distressed that there’s not enough food,” Ace unwraps Sabo’s scarf, smile turning a little bleak. “No need to be tense.”

“I can go without food if that’s what she’s worried about,” the blond hands Ace the coat. At the latter’s flat stare, he laughs, only a bit strained. “Really. I’m fine.”

“She’d rather starve herself than watch you get nothing, trust me. Refusing is an insult in this household, alright? You better take everything she gives you,” Ace elbows him in the ribs and playfully winks over his shoulder right before disappearing into the kitchen as well.

A little flustered for reasons unknown, Sabo awkwardly slips into the slippers and steels himself. Mrs. Portgas seems awesome, really – what’s the worst that can happen?

 

 

* * *

 

Gold-Portgas D. Rouge is a tiny woman with lengthy strawberry-blonde hair, a slather of pale freckles covering her even paler, porcelain skin, inviting brown eyes that are shaped just like Ace’s despite the differentiating colors and what appears to be a heart of gold. Her presence is soothing and she openly dotes on Ace despite him being a little shithead for not saying anything till the last moment, making the freckled teen blush in embarrassment. Neither Luffy nor Sabo comment on Mrs. Portgas’ loving ways or attempt to add more to Ace’s exaggerated shame. They obviously mean the world to each other and Sabo can’t help the slight pangs of sadness and jealousy whenever he sees them interact like a proper family. He’d give up the cushy lifestyle in a heartbeat to experience a familial relationship like this one.

Meanwhile, Luffy cuddles Spade, scratching the fat pooch on the stomach. The dog seems to enjoy Luffy’s coddling well-enough but nearly bites off Sabo’s hand when he squats next to the kid and attempts to pet the sleepy animal as well.

“Careful, hon,” Mrs. Portgas warns, lowering the heat to let the meal simmer. She seems to be done for the day. “He’s not too friendly when it comes to strangers, though I’m sure that he’ll warm up to you very soon!”

Blushing madly, Sabo looks up, unused to being addressed by such a pretty woman, completely unsure as to how he should even react and reply – he always tends to freeze up around older strangers, no thanks to his parents’ constant threats about keeping up the “perfect son” image at all times. Besides, Sabo rarely visits people who aren’t pompous assholes so being talked to so kindly and referred to as “hon”… it kind of catches him off-guard.

“I do hope so!” he squawks a bit too loudly and ducks his head in shame, ears turning dark pink. Beside him, Luffy snickers at his efforts, carefully watching the awkward exchange.

“I  _know_  so,” the beautiful woman chirps, seemingly blind to the boy's blatant discomfort and stands on her tiptoes to reach some cabinets. “You seem like a nice young man. Spade here is our personality judge – we can always tell who has a good heart thanks to our boy’s keen senses!” she turns back to the dog, smacking her lips a few times to get Spade’s attention, cooing. The dog visibly brightens up and eagerly hops out of Luffy’s hands, waddling towards Mrs. Portgas, tail wagging like the wings of a windmill.

It’s honestly adorable, so to live up to the woman’s expectations, Sabo nearly falls over himself to help her collect the cutlery and set the table, “Here, let me.”

“Oh no, honey, I can do this myself. Please, you needn’t bother with this, take a seat,” Mrs. Portgas shakes her head but Sabo insists so she relents, flashing the young gentleman her trademark grin. He can finally see where Ace gets it from.

Sabo smiles back, reassured, and all of his fears melt away as though brushed aside by some unseen hand. Making good use of the tender moment, Luffy creeps closer to the food but Sabo’s foot shoots out to catch the back of Luffy’s shins, shooting the kid a hard look – “you better wash your hands”.

“I didn’t yet ask for your name, my knight,” Rouge laughs sweetly as she sets up the last of plates.

Sabo has to clear his throat at least five times to make the croaking wheezing stop. “It’s Sabo,” he diligently leaves out his last name but it doesn’t look like the lady disapproves, nodding, “And I’m more of a humble servant than a knight, really! There’s no need to flatter me.”

Luffy’s abrupt coughing fit sounds like the words “so lame!”. Sabo wants to _die_.

Mrs. Portgas rewards him with a playful look that just screams “oh you”. “So you’re that Sabo boy! I heard a whole lot about you,” the teen is forced to double take at that, his gentlemanly act momentarily crumbling – Ace was talking about him? To his mom? His most important person? Concern creases his eyebrows and air catches in his lungs in a very wrong way - what if Ace’s been badmouthing him away? You could never know with Ace, besides, they got off at a very rough start. Body involuntarily stiffening up, Sabo anxiously  _waits._  “A lot of really good things,” Mrs. Portgas clears up after she takes notice of the teen’s sheet-pale face. “Ace seems to like talking about you and Luffy the most!”

“I don’t!” Ace yells from the hallway and then minces his curses when something heavy falls on the ground. He’s been running around in circles, hopping down the staircase instead of walking properly, various items held in his arms. Most of them seem to consist of junk food wrappers and old laundry – Sabo assumes that Ace isn’t one for cleanliness. “Don’t feed them lies, they’re gonna get full of themselves.”

Ignoring Ace’s dramatics, Sabo turns to face the kind lady once more. “Uh, what should I call you?” he asks shyly, fidgeting nervously. His parents have taught him to _always_  ask beforehand – Sabo learned it the hard way when he was merely eight years old and accidentally referred to his father’s associate as “old uncle”.

“It’s Rouge, darling,” she tells him and Sabo tests it on his tongue. It’s a nice name.

“Ms. Rouge,” he nods and then immediately startles at the various reactions to his words. Luffy looks like he just took a sip of spoiled milk, “Ms. Rouge” covers her pink face, laughing nervously, while Ace drops his stuff once again, jaw set.

“Oh no, I’m married! I’m afraid that means that I’m no longer a miss,” Rouge tells Sabo with a delicate wave of her hand, touching her freckled cheek. “But feel free to leave out Mrs. as well. Makes me feel like an old lady,” "discreetly", she whispers in Ace’s direction who continues to stand deceptively still as though he’s just walked in on Sabo proposing to his mother, “you have such charming friends, baby.”

Sabo doesn’t know whether he should thank the woman for leaving the kitchen so soon or not because while the awkwardness levels truly go down, being stranded with Ace’s mime act isn’t too… pleasing.

Luffy huffs “dude!” at the same time Sabo squawks “what!?”, shoulders squared defensively.

“Are you one of those creeps who thought that she’s my older sister?” Ace's steely eyes slant into suspicion-filled slits, voice betraying nothing. He picks up the laundry basket, shoving some socks back inside.

“You want an honest answer?” Sabo asks nervously but shuts up immediately after Ace icily glares at him from under the curtain of his shaggy hair. “I mean when she answered the door – sure? But it’s pretty obvious she’s not, right?” though who is Sabo to lie and say that he wouldn’t have had confused Rouge for Ace’s slightly older-looking sister who had a deep-rooted love for cute nicknames. The woman looks twenty-two  _at most_  and that says a lot.

“He’s gonna give you the talk now,” Luffy throws his head back with a prolonged groan, no longer entertained. He uses that moment to raid the drawers for tea. “Don’t go overboard.”

“I  _never_  go overboard, I am a traumatized man! My "overboard" is completely justified,” Ace explains angrily, setting down the basket by the entrance. Sabo looks between the teens in confusion. “I have PTSD, alright?”

Luffy chooses to stay quiet so Sabo takes it upon himself to cautiously ask for the meaning of those words, nose crinkling in confusion.

Ace cuts him off before he can embarrass himself any further – god, he’s been doing that a whole lot today, in an  _embarrassingly_  short time span, no less. “Every goddamn asshole who’s ever crossed the threshold of my goddamn home thought it to be absolutely cool and alright to hit on my mom while I was within hearing range.” Ace looks annoyed as hell but his body language is so exaggerated that it takes every fiber of Sabo’s being to hold back his snorting laughter. Luffy doesn’t appear to be as successful. “You’ve never met Thatch so this story loses some of its "charm", but damn he, like, actively tried to woo my mom,” by now, Luffy’s nearly crying, slapping the table to keep himself in check. Startled by the abrupt loud noise, Spade rushedly waddles out of the kitchen, eager to put distance between himself and the noisy brat causing a commotion. Ace shoots the cackling kid a dark look. It seems that this story has left its special mark on the older teen’s psyche. Sabo’s interest gets piqued immediately. “Last year, mom paid him to mow the front lawn because I broke my leg and couldn’t do jackshit but that doesn’t matter. Anyways, he shows up  _shirtless_ with the tiniest shorts I’ve ever seen on a guy and then gets to work. And the worst part is – “ Ace’s seriousness finally dims as he cracks a smile. Luffy’s ready to start rolling around on the ground while holding onto his heaving stomach. “That he'd start playing “Stacy’s mom” whenever  _my mom_  would walk outside to tend to the garden or chat him up. It was the  _worst day of my life._ ”

Through his guffawing laughter, Sabo still manages to sneak in a question, “And whatever happened to him?”

“I got rid of him,” Ace says with the most serious, deadpan face ever and the boys spend the next least three minutes laughing. Rouge walks by the entrance to the kitchen a few times, smiling at them fondly, granting the friends some space. “Ah, I guess I wouldn’t invite him over afterwards. Ma’s still confused as to where her _Thatchy-poo_  went.”

“Your mom’s too good for all of us, man. Too pure for this world,” Sabo leans back against the counter, brushing the wisps of hair falling into his eyes. “No offense, but this sounds like something that you just made up to threaten me.”

“Does this look like the face of a man who hasn’t gone through hell and back?”

“What?” Luffy loudly questions over the whistle of the kettle. “Does your face look like hell? All the time!”

“It’s stuck that way,” Sabo adds while Ace flings a balled-up sock at Luffy’s head, missing the target. Sabo isn’t sure how he manages lacrosse with that “accuracy” rate of his.

Ace elbows Sabo right as Rouge reenters. The woman scolds her harsh son for mistreating guests and then tells them to sit down – the food is getting cold.

 

 

* * *

 

Sabo ends up giving a third of his share to Luffy who gratefully inhales it without chewing, seeing that the boy has a void for a stomach and all. The food is absolutely delicious but he tries not to overdo it with compliments, mindful of Ace’s stare drilling into his back throughout the polite exchange and they get dragged upstairs by the man of the house. Over the rail of the staircase, Ace yells at his mom to go rest and leave the stack of dishes in his care and then closes the door, stiffening up when it finally registers that… he has _Sabo Outlook_  standing in his  _bedroom._

Luffy isn’t an issue whatsoever – the kid’s been sneaking into his place more often than not, sometimes forced to run away from home due to… bad company, unwilling to impose on Zoro and the rest. It’s because Ace never asks questions and he doesn’t even try to – he knows little to nothing about Luffy’s less-than-safe lifestyle despite being a good friend of his. He’s an _outsider_  and Luffy's never seemed too eager to drag him into his private business.

Sabo, though…now that’s a completely different story.

Uncomfortable and stiff, Ace anxiously awaits for some sort of judgement, but the blond barely wastes time inspecting his pig pen, joining Luffy on the bed – the kid raids his bedroom drawer for a dessert and emerges victorious after he manages to snatch an opened bag of gummy worms.

Sabo neatly folds his hands on his knees, and pokes at the strange lump on Ace’s sheets – he has no idea what he’s shoved in there in his haste to clear out the cramped space. If he’d known that he’d be bringing someone over he would’ve started cleaning up at least three days ago. Dimly, Ace tries to recall the last time he’s vaguely tried to clean up – two months ago? More?

“What are you looking for?” Ace asks and discreetly toes a dirty hoodie under his bed.

Sabo continues poking at the lump, “Dunno. Snakes? A rat nest?”

“I’m sorry that my rat nest isn’t to your liking, your highness,” Ace sneers, falling into a curtsy while Sabo only rolls his eyes, pinning the brunet with a plain stare.

“Never said I didn’t like your room, Ace,” he clarifies, leaning back with a content smile curving his pale lips. “It’s really nice. I’d take it over my room any day.”

Ace stills, mouth falling open just a little. Did he hear that right? Luffy raises an eyebrow at the blond and continues shoveling the gummy worms into his greedy mouth – it’s like he’s never full no matter what. It’s this sort of behavior that concerns Ace – does Luffy get enough to eat back at the Gray Terminal?

“Uh,” he says, intelligent as ever.

“I could do without the trash band posters though,” Sabo jibes with a smirk.  _Of course._  What did he expect from this asshat? “You’ve shit taste in music.”

“You take that back!” Ace hollers defensively, supremely butthurt over such inaccurate accusations and then tackles Sabo who in turn falls on top of Luffy’s stretched out legs, pointy elbow smashing into the teen’s exposed shin. Yelping in pain, choking on the sugary sweets due to the suddenness of it all, Luffy smacks his own chest a few times to dislodge the half-chewed goo threatening to suffocate him and angrily flings a blue-pink worm at Ace, aiming for the teen’s eye.

While it doesn’t quite reach the target, he still gets some sugar in his eye and that moment of confusion is more than enough for Sabo to overpower him and switch their positions.

 

 

* * *

 

Sabo should’ve known that it’d come to this.

They don’t get to hang out at all and now that the perfect opportunity has presented itself on a golden platter, well… who even cares about studying, really?

Luffy keeps whining about being bored and Sabo feels like he should applaud himself and his companions – they’ve managed to study for at least twenty minutes which was, of course, absolutely nothing, but Luffy did manage to solve one math problem all on his own. One out of _eight_  given. Which was, hey, better than nothing!

Ace asked him a grand total of two questions about his lit homework before smashing his face into the pillow, groaning tiredly as though they’ve been at it for four days now. Before Sabo could even blink, he ended up swept away by Luffy and Ace’s pace, a gaming console dropped into his lap. He sucked at it, being green and all, Ace made fun of him for it, Luffy kicked both of their asses because all kinds of cheating was fine as long as you could win the first place in video games and then somehow the sun had set in the blink of an eye, the digital clock’s numbers flashing 9:38 pm.

Where did the time go?

Sabo can’t think of a good explanation for their  _suddenly very much absent_  time, unable to recall doing anything significant or supremely productive to make its passage seem this insanely fast. Luffy tells him that it only seems that way because he’s been relaxing with  _the two people he adores the most in the world_  and Sabo’s inclined to believe those words – despite doing absolutely nothing other than dicking around and bantering over music tastes (which somehow ended in watching old memes and cat videos on Youtube) it feels like it’s been well-spent. Even if his parents would disagree if they knew what he’s been up to. Sabo’s used to tight schedules and boring, repetitive scenarios so this little hangout is a welcome change of pace. A fresh breath of air.

Speaking of parents.

“You guys maybe want to stay the night?” Ace offhandedly asks and yawns into his fist after taking notice of the time. Sabo knows for sure that if he doesn’t leave now, he won’t be able to catch the last bus home and he’s not about to ask Rouge to give him a lift.

Luffy perks up at the mention of a sleepover, grinning. “Yeah, of course! Count me in,” he fishes out his old, brick for a phone, its screen cracked, and tells them that he’s going to inform Zoro rather than his guardian – his best friend will drop by Luffy’s trailer in the morning to pick up his books for the following school day. The thought of someone else ruffling through Luffy’s personal belongings doesn’t seem to bother him in the slightest, so Sabo lets it go – he knows that Luffy would trust Zoro with his life at any given moment.

The fact that it’s a school night doesn’t seem to deter Ace or Luffy in the slightest who continue chatting while Sabo quiets down, unwilling to leave just yet. Or anytime today, really. He wonders if he could ask Koala to do the same for him, drop by his place in the morning to take his stuff, and feels like laughing – that's ridiculous and insane. He’d be getting his best friend into some very unnecessary and unwarranted trouble and as a punishment for this foolishness his parents would undeniably attempt to take away his Koala-rights, or, even worse, place him under house arrest.

“What about you?” Ace wonders, looking at the uncharacteristically silent blond. “Still fretting? If you can’t stay, I’ll give you a ride home. It’s cool.”

“I want to come with,” Luffy invites himself over on their hypothetical car ride but Sabo only shakes his head, smiling faintly.

“No, I – I  _want to_  stay,” Sabo nods to himself, firm. The vocal admittance makes him reel – he’s never been to a sleepover before. He’s never had… friends like  _this_ , friends who’d offer to stay the night and wholeheartedly enjoy his company, and while Koala is Sabo’s best friend, Sabo’s mom and Koala’s parents never allowed them to have innocent sleepovers because a girl and a guy sleeping in the same room before marriage? Absolutely unheard of. “I just –  _uh._  Don’t really know how this goes?”

“What? Sleepover?” Luffy squints at him in confusion, legs hooked on Ace’s bed while he lies on the messy floor. “It’s the same as now. Just with more sleep!”

“I know how sleepovers work, thank you, Luffy,” Sabo says sarcastically while Luffy earnestly waves at him - “don’t mention it!”. Ace continues mutely observing him, gray eyes steady and intense as the blond fidgets. “What do I tell my parents?”

“Uh, the truth?” Ace offers after a beat of lengthy silence, shrugging as if it’s no big deal. “Study session dragged out. You’ll be going to school tomorrow regardless. Plus you keep your stuff in your locker so it’s not a problem, right?”

“Yeah, uh – “

“So there’s no problem!” Luffy says cheerfully, wiggling his toes. “Don’t worry, if it goes pear-shaped, we’re gonna take you back!”

Ace nods his confirmation so Sabo sighs and shakily types in his father’s phone number, using memory alone– he doesn't have any saved contacts on his phone; an extra precaution from probable snooping around (namely by his obnoxious maids).

The conversation is unpleasant to the point that Luffy places a comforting hand on his thigh, patting it to give Sabo courage and strength to not wince or hang up as his father inquires about his whereabouts and continuously degrades Sabo in that usual “read between the lines” way of his. He’s clearly disappointed in Sabo’s behavior – for what reason, he’s not quite sure – but he lets him stay over at Ace’s as long as he attends school and heads back home straight after class because they have some important guests coming over in the afternoon. The entire Outlook family is to be present.

Ace’s mouth is pulled into a tight frown when Sabo ends the call with a small “understood, sir” and lowers the phone into his lap, shoulders sagging.

“What did he say?” Luffy eagerly inquires, taking notice of Sabo’s defeated exposition.

The corner of the blond’s lip twitches subtly upwards and after at least a minute of dragged-out silence, he deems his companions wound up enough, laughing, “Done and done!”

Luffy sighs in relief and painfully smacks his thigh, lips twisted into a pout. Ace clips Sabo on the back of the head, smiling, “You’re a goddamn shithead.”

“You were so concerned, it was adorable, sorry, sorry, had to ruffle your feathers!” Sabo holds up his hands, smiling at his friends’ playful hits.

He’s gonna have to face the consequences for this disobedience sooner or later but right now Sabo cannot bring himself to  _care_ , the remains of tension leaving his tired body. It seems that a good night awaits.

 

 

* * *

 

He’s wrong  _yet again._

Luffy spends no more than five minutes in the shower, texts Zoro goodnight, steals Ace’s spare shirt and then crashes face-first into the queen-sized bed, snoring loudly.

Wide-eyed, Sabo pokes the conked out teen to make sure that he’s still  _alive_. Luffy only murmurs something inaudible into the fluffy pillow and meshes his nose deeper into it.

“Leave him alone, he got so excited that he tired himself out. Toddlers do that,” Ace tells him and opens the overflowing, peeled poster-covered closet, barely managing to catch the various knick-knacks and clothes falling from it. Sabo comments on his superb, enviable cleaning skills to which Ace replies by throwing a clean sweatshirt at Sabo’s face.

Sabo looks inside it as though searching for something. “Let me guess, looking for the Russian circus?” Ace quotes ‘Anastasia’ and it’s somehow appropriate and goddamn endearing since they’ve been discussing their all-time favorite animated movies and they agreed that ‘Anastasia’ was very enjoyable – though Luffy wasn’t too hot on the romance factor. In the end, "Lion King" had emerged victorious. 

Through the neck-hole, Sabo peeks at Ace. “Cockroaches, actually, but sure, that works,” he holds the sweatshirt up, inspecting its size. “Is this my sleeping bag? I could fit Luffy in here as well.”

“No, you unfunny dipshit, those are your PJs,” Ace clarifies, gesturing at Sabo’s sweater and button up combo. “You’re not going to sleep in that, are you?” he then turns back to shove some clothes deeper into the overflowing closet, voice quiet when he adds, “It’s my old man’s. I don’t really wear it since it’s not my style.”

For the life of him, Sabo cannot understand  _why_  anyone wouldn’t want to wear it. It’s dark blue in color with a cartoon pirate drawn on it. Next to the pirate, there’s a speech bubble that spells out the corniest pirate pun Sabo’s ever seen: “how do pirates prefer to communicate? Aye-to-aye!” Honestly the sweatshirt is genius but he’s not about to question Ace and his subliminal daddy issues. Whatever the case, Sabo absolutely  _loves it_ even if it smells like dust and, for some reason, Ace.

“I like it,” Sabo says, “This is probably the best article of less-edgy clothing that you own and I will not allow you to insult it any further.”

“I figured you might like it, since, you know, both of you have a terrible sense of humor.”

Sabo doesn’t know if he has the shirt in mind or his absent father so he lets it go with a simple flat look and then excuses himself, heading towards the shower.

On his way, he runs into Rouge who is climbing upstairs with a glass of water held in hand. She smiles and wishes him a good night, gaze drifting to the sweatshirt hanging off Sabo’s bent forearm as though magnetized. Something flickers in her warm, chocolate-hued eyes. Recognition perhaps, but somehow it’s far mellower than that so Sabo shamefully ducks his head and quickly excuses himself, hastily shutting the bathroom door behind himself. He doesn’t want to bring up any unwanted feelings to Ace’s mom – she’s far too kind to deserve a sleepless night or something along those lines. Privately, Sabo wonders what their current familial situation is but he promises himself that he will not ask until either Ace or Rouge feel like talking about it.

Rouge seems to linger on in the hallway before disappearing in her room.

 

 

* * *

 

Ace is wrestling an air pump into the hole of a giant mattress when Sabo walks in, hair dripping on his shoulders. He’s positively drowning in the sweatshirt but the material feels nice against his skin, soft and warm, and it’s not as big as he’d initially thought – well, he is taller than Ace though. The latter starts coughing at the sight of Sabo standing in his doorway as though he’s forgotten about the other teen’s existence altogether, eyes constantly flickering to Sabo’s long, exposed legs. The supposedly  _discreet_  staring is very goddamn obvious and downright unsettling, so Sabo sits down on the bed, hugging his knees to himself – did Ace honestly expect him to sleep in his tight pants? Is that why he's gawking?

“What are you doing?” Sabo frowns when Ace stands upright, ready to bring the air mattress back to life, foot propped against the pump.

“Setting up a bed for myself, what does it look like?” Ace asks, shooting a glance Luffy’s way – the kid’s sprawled out on his stomach, thin limbs everywhere. “It’s not like we’re going to fit there. You can go to sleep, Sabo, don’t wait up,” Ace dismisses and gets to work but Sabo places his heel on the rubber pipe of the pump.

“No way,” he frowns, “I’m the guest here – it’s only natural that you take the bed. You can go wash up and I’ll set up the mattress. Just tell me where to find the bedsheets.”

“This isn’t up for argument,” Ace calmly tells him, gently nudging Sabo’s foot aside with his own. “It’s your first sleepover experience – let’s make it a good one. Don’t want you waking up with a sore back.”

“And I don’t want you waking up sore all over and crankier than usual!” Sabo huffs in disobedience, moodily flopping backwards on the bed with his arms sprawled to the sides, carefully navigating around Luffy’s sleeping form, unwilling to rouse the boy from his deep slumber. Ace looks his way, bemused, eyebrows raised. It’s weird to see Sabo give up so readily without even bothering to put up any sort of fight or pulling weird arguments out of his ass at a moment’s notice.

Ace is ready to call himself a seer when Sabo sits upright, the collar of the sweatshirt nearly slipping down one pale shoulder. Ace fights back the overwhelming urge to clear his throat – it feels oddly dry. “It’s big enough to fit all three of us, see?”

That  _does_  make Ace cough and choke a little, “Don’t be stupid, Sabo, just take the damn bed. I can handle some floorboards.”

“No, you’re being stupid and naïve if you think that I’m letting you sleep on the floor, Ace,” Sabo raises a fist, “Don’t make me come down there.”

“God, how stubborn are you!?” Ace sighs in defeat, running his hands over his tousled hair, making it stand up even further.

“As stubborn as you, so you know how this one will end.”

“With none of us getting any rest?”

“Precisely,” Sabo turns his nose upwards to condescendingly glare at Ace, arms crossed and, at this point, there’s no choice for him, is there?

“ _Fine._  But if you kick me, I’m going to kick back twice as hard,” Ace warns, refolding the makeshift unused and unwanted bed.

“I think we both know who’ll be doing the kicking,” Sabo says and then adds “Luffy” at the same Ace does.

 

 

* * *

 

There’s something  _strange_  about sleeping with two people in one, cramped space, Sabo thinks, as he gets sandwiched between Ace and Luffy, but he decides that the experience isn’t unpleasant in the slightest. Sure, he has to deal with Ace’s strange wheezy breathing but he quickly gets adjusted to it and Luffy’s snores are nothing compared to those of Stelly’s echoing halfway across the hallways of their mansion.

Ace crashes just as suddenly and abruptly as Luffy had and that leaves Sabo tossing and turning around, waiting for the blissful release of sleep. His daily routine consists of five hours of rest at most so trying to lull himself at the delicate hour of 12:30 am just doesn’t work – due to his fucked up inner clock and sleep schedule, to Sabo, it feels like it’s 8:00 pm at most.

That night, he hardly sleeps, thoughts buzzing, but he feels happier than ever. Sometime past two, Luffy shifts and cuddles up to him, curled up into a tight ball, his forehead pressed into Sabo’s shoulder. As if enticed, Ace turns over as well, left arm draping over Sabo’s middle, fingers resting on Luffy’s side. His face is still shoved into the pillows, messy hair covering the visible strip of Ace’s angular face so Sabo has to fight back the need to brush the black strands away and maybe poke Ace awake – he doesn’t want the other to suffocate in his sleep.

He dozes off sometime past four in the morning, head turned to Ace, Luffy’s cheek resting on his right shoulder, rough hair tickling Sabo's exposed neck.

 

 

* * *

 

When he wakes, Ace feels oddly cold.

Dazed, he pats around the empty spot on his bed, fingers catching nothing but sheets. Those feel a little warmer.

He doesn’t get to fully come to it before getting subjected to a whole lot of shaking, Luffy’s booming voice ringing in his ears, “Damn it, Ace, wake up! We’re gonna be late for school!”

“I’m up, I’m up,” the freckled teen slurs, yawning till his jaw pops. There’s still that sinking feeling encasing his chest as though he’s forgotten something very important. But what is it? Luffy’s right there, and – “Sabo’s freaking out, he doesn’t want to be late. I saw him burn toast, Ace.  _Toast._  Even I’m not capable of that.”

Oh, and there it is.

Still, it hardly motivates Ace – he feels sluggish enough to fall back into a coma at any given second now. Damn, he slept well – he hardly recalls the last time he felt this relaxed. Luffy doesn’t take kindly to it, grabbing Ace by the wrists to drag him out of the bed, “Come on, slowpoke, breakfast.”

“Is he up?” Sabo’s muffled voice echoes from somewhere downstairs while Luffy wrestles the older teen into a sitting position, huffing due to the strain.

“Yes, honey-boo, I’m up,” Ace mumbles under his breath as if Sabo can actually hear him and Luffy scoffs at that, using quite some strength to literally drag Ace out of the bed.

“I’m gonna assume that the body-flop and the cursing means yes,” Sabo jokes but there’s a certain rush in his voice as if he cannot wait to get going already.

“You could’ve woken me up earlier to avoid this mess,” Ace yawns once he and Luffy finally head downstairs, his shirt on backwards – Luffy sucked at trying to dress others up. Sabo looks at him, oddly disoriented, and momentarily halts the “headless chicken running around” routine.

“I  _tried to_  wake you up like six times. I even set an alarm for you but you slept right through it!” Sabo jabs an accusatory finger into Ace’s wide chest, glowering while the brunet shrugs, lazy.

“Sleep issues, man. Forgot to mention, whoops.”

The pissy teen relents a little at that and shoves a piece of toast into Ace’s mouth, pulling Luffy towards the hallway to get their clothes. The ensuing chaos makes Ace grin despite Sabo freaking the hell out, rushing them – they still have at least fifteen minutes left. They’re going to get there three minutes late at worst.

That knowledge doesn’t satisfy Sabo in the slightest and they nearly fall through the front door, the car parked in the driveway absent – Rouge has a day shift today and she’d left the house way before the boys started waking up. It’s only when they’re halfway to the school that Sabo curses loudly.

“What’s up?” Ace asks at the same time Luffy halts in his skip and follows it up with “forgot something?”

“I – “ Sabo flushes a deep strawberry but it has absolutely nothing to do with the smothering morning chill and the surrounding mist hanging in the air. “I forgot to change out of the shirt…! I’m sorry, Ace, I – “

“Hey, don’t sweat it,” the freckled teen calms him down with a friendly pat on the back, putting extra care into making it seem super casual. “No harm done. I did tell you that I don’t really wear that sweater, yeah? You can give it back to me some other time.”

“Yeah, because we gotta move right now!” Luffy chirps with renewed high-spirits right after his phone beeps with a new message notification. His face breaks out into a wide, sunny grin, seemingly clearing up the bleak skies of this dull November morning. “If you want to skip the second period, meet me and Zoro at the lockers.”

“No thanks,” Sabo says at the same time Ace rolls his eyes and mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like “I wouldn’t dream of thirdwheeling on your date, Lu.”


	7. the study session

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry chris guys!!!! here's my present!

School’s… distracting.

Sabo isn’t too sure why he can’t bring himself to concentrate as he halfheartedly listens to Ms. Tashigi drone on about minor revolutions and whatnot, barely keeping his eyes open. There seems to be a blur in his vision, causing an annoying itchiness beneath his eyelids. It persists to the point where it becomes bothersome, so Sabo puts his hand up, scrubbing at his face until it feels raw. He stifles a wide yawn; his jaw nearly pops out of place and it comes out a bit too loud than intended, successfully catching the teacher’s disapproving glance. Ms. Tashigi is far from malicious so she doesn’t follow it up with something degrading like ‘do you find my class boring, Mr. Outlook?’ - in fact, she doesn’t even scold her worn down student, going back to the book held in her hand.

Some teens send Sabo acidic stares over their shoulders – if they were in Sabo’s place, they’d find themselves chewed out on the spot;  _must be nice to be every goddamn teacher’s pet_  – but the trophy student evades them by pointedly looking out the window. The thick fog is yet to lift, bringing even more gloom to the cramped classroom, the buzzing of fluorescent lights lulling the blond teenager to sleep.

The sleepover was a bad idea, Sabo thinks. He should’ve known that he won’t be able to properly rest. But he doesn’t regret it, not by a long shot. Sabo feels as though his soul is detached from his too-warm body, stuck somewhere back in Portgas’ household and Ace’s even warmer sheets. His thoughts linger on the two bodies sandwiching him, acting like two mini heaters.

Sabo’s never felt this relaxed.

If he closes his eyes for a second too long, it’s like he’s there all over again, Luffy’s head comfortably burrowed in his neck and Ace’s heavy arm draped over his middle, pulling Sabo closer into his side whenever he so much as twitched.  It takes at least three quick-passing, blurring periods for Sabo to realize why he’s drowsy in the first place.

Once he does, the teen quickly pulls his beet-red cheek away from the sleeve of Ace’s sweater, disbelievingly staring at the half-covered palm, brain short-circuiting.

He’s had his nose burrowed in that silly pirate sweatshirt for more than three hours now.

Sabo didn’t even notice it, far too used to cupping his jaw to stay upright during the less interesting classes but he never nosed at his sleeves the way he did today. Perhaps it has to do with the fact that the scent of the sweatshirt is so unlike the one wafting off most of Sabo’s clothes – the maids of their manor have a thing for peach-scented fabric softeners – but it still doesn’t excuse Sabo’s… affectionate sleeve nuzzling session. He’s acting like a sleep-deprived… creep; fuck, if someone did that to his clothes, he’d be seriously weirded out.

Strangely embarrassed, Sabo avoids touching his face for the rest of the day, anxious to change out of the stupid sweatshirt that smells too much like Ace.

* * *

 

Ace’s wiping away the sweat clinging to the back of his neck when his phone buzzes on the floor, dropped on top of his duffel bag. The studio is eerily quiet despite the soft hum of the radio and the faint buzzing of the dimmed lights overhead. Lately, Ace’s been visiting here far more often, the stress of the looming Test Week kicking in hard. Going over old taekwondo routines does wonders to Ace’s mind and body, the pleasant sting of his muscles making him forget everything else, and it’s really nice of Thatch’s old man to let him lurk around after hours, so long as he cleans up after himself whenever he’s done with practice and doesn’t damage any equipment with his monstrous hits.

It’s dark outside. Ace can’t tell if the shit falling from the orange-hued, cloud-engulfed sky is drizzle or the beginnings of snow.

The text is from Sabo, asking about their next study session. Ace clicks his tongue in annoyance – he’s been doing such a great job at avoiding the topic and textbooks, praying that the lack of revising material won’t come back to bite him in the ass in the form of a less-than-good grade.

For a moment he considers not opening the message but the phone vibrates insistently, Luffy’s icon pops up in the chatroom as well and Ace realizes that he has no other choice – he has to face this, bravely and head-on.

**_Saboutlook: So, are you good to go this Saturday?_ **

**_PIRATEKING: nahhhh i got places to be im reeeeeeally sorry !! : (_ **

Ace knows that Sabo won’t leave it alone until he gets a proper date out of at least either one of them and it’s not like he has anything better to do than to sleep and game away his weekend.

Sabo’s undoubtedly typing away a scolding rant meant to shame them into feeling bad about not taking the Test Week of Hell seriously, so Ace bites the inside of his cheek to hold back his smirk and unleashes the meme hell, trusting Luffy to pick up on it immediately.

**_Firefistace: sí señor_ **

**_PIRATE KING:_ ** **_efectos especiales_ **

**_YEEEE YEEEE YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE !!!!!!!!!!!_ **

Ace stifles a laugh when he sees Sabo’s typing halt.

**_Firefistace: TU Y YO_ **

**_A LA FIESTA_ **

**_PIRATEKING: TU Y YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_ **

**_Firefistace: toda la noche!!!!_ **

**_Saboutlook: oh my God_ **

**_You losers, stop itttttttttt_ **

**_Now it’s gonna be stuck in my head for the rest of the night, GREAT. Thanks, guys, really._ **

**_Why are we still friends aksajflsdg;l_ **

**_Firefistace: because u love us duh ;)_ **

**_PIRATEKING: OH BSHIT RIGHT SABO DOENST KNOW THE MEME IM SORY_ **

**_……….no im not lol but imagine !!!_ **

**_Firefistace: maybe he’d know the meme if he went out more often_ **

**_Saboutlook: Not all of us can afford a social life and a good grade streak, Portgas._ **

**_Firefistace: ha good grades……. more like this is the best joke that u told me this fine afternoon anyways BAILANDO_ **

**_PIRATEKING: BAILANDO_ **

**_and for real this time: amigos adios because i gtg, nami’s waiting. hf without me !!!!_ **

**_Saboutlook: Luffy, are you seriously leaving me with Mr. Paradisio here?_ **

**_Aaaaaaaand he’s gone_ **

**_Firefistace: i can sing u something else if u don’t like this one? there’s another bailando if you want ;)_ **

**_Saboutlook: No thanks, I’m good._ **

**_Firefistace: aww : ( n here i was ready to get my Iglesias game on_ **

**_Saboutlook: Yikes, I’m gonna ignore that_ **

**_Anyways, 11 am, just like we planned, ok? I don’t trust my parents to let me out in the evening._ **

**_Firefistace: god that’s like asscrack of dawn are you insane_ **

**_Saboutlook: Won’t hurt you to get up at a decent hour for once?_ **

**_Before you start ranting – I’m not interested. Go to sleep early. Also what should I bring? You got all the notes and material, orrrrr…?_ **

**_Firefistace: damn, foiled again_ **

**_yea, some cyanide would be nice_ **

Sabo then calls him a drama queen, mentions something about a stolen sweatshirt – oh yeah, Ace has forgotten all about it, he wasn’t lying when he said that he didn’t normally wear it, so – and they end the conversation there because his tank top starts sticking to his front in a really uncomfortable way.

Despite his initial hatred of lit as a subject and as a whole, Ace can’t help but look forward to their study session. Which is a bit weird, but hey, at least he will get to hang out with Sabo. Actually, he’s only looking forward to seeing Sabo, the notes can go fuck themselves. Lately the blond’s been off the radar, burying himself under piles upon piles of notes, running into walls while reading over the said notes – Ace saw him accidentally kissing the wall instead of diving into the classroom like he’d planned to, missing the doorway by a mere few centimeters. Sabo seemed far too engrossed in study material to feel any pain from the clearly unpleasant impact, merely rubbing the tip of his bruised nose and navigating around the sharp edges to get inside without even bothering to look up.

Ace never thought he’d say this but he kinda, sorta… missed Sabo. Having the latter brush them off sucks even more than not seeing him altogether. He’d be right there, but never quite in reach, shooting tired smiles of acknowledgment halfway across the busy hallways. Sometimes Luffy would say fuck it and launch himself at the blond, nearly tackling him to the ground.

Sometimes Ace felt like he wanted to do it too, surprise the other somehow, cheer him up with a one-armed hug. But breaching Sabo’s personal space, public or not, often proves to be bit difficult. Ace can never quite tell when the other was okay with being touched; besides, Ace doesn’t want to come across as touchy-feely either. He figures that they will cross that bridge once they get to it and secretly hopes that it’ll happen very soon.

‘ **Saboutlook: It’s snowing outside** ’ reads the new text as Ace exits the building and a snowflake lands right on the tip of his chilled nose, melting in the warm puffs of air. The message makes a crooked smile pull at his lips. Ace burrows his face into the scarf even deeper, strolling towards the nearest bus stop.

**_Firefistace: now you can finally enjoy that winter that you love so much_ **

**_no mercy though, if it keeps on snowing, tomorrow morning you die like a man_ **

* * *

 

Ace knows nothing about this ‘Jane Austen’ person, other than the fact that Sabo harbors a burning hatred for her.

“I’m sure that – uh, what was the book called?” Ace asks and rubs at his aching forehead – they’ve been going over various authors for well over an hour now and that’s like an entire hour too much – glancing at Sabo who reties his pathetically small ponytail.

“Pride and prejudice,” Sabo mumbles moodily, flipping over a thick notebook.

Ace eyerolls at the unintentional dramatics, “Yeah, that. Anyways, it looks like a basic book. Everyone wrote similar country-stuff, right? So I’m sure there’s nothing to it.”

Sabo snorts, in that librarian, lit-savvy way, “Yeah, no shit there’s nothing to it. Pisses me off that it’s supposedly considered to be a great masterpiece. There are so many things  _wrong_ with it that seeing people praise it all the time – eugh.”

“Sounds to me like someone didn’t drink enough respect women juice,” Ace pokes Sabo’s forearm, the second half of the sentence rolling of his tongue in a supposedly humorous way. Sabo shoots him a plain look – uh oh, seems like this author in particular flips the switch on the teen’s school debate mode.

“I’m not saying it’s entirely bad! It deconstructs and explores the old societal ideologies pretty well but the main character and the plot – “ Sabo shudders. “It’s bad. There’s no other word for it. No shit, considering it’s written by an author who got like maybe fifteen reviews in her lifetime and would write main characters that only she liked and understood. Because I sure as hell don’t. Everything seems to contradict itself as well, I – “

“Whoa, buddy, calm down before you pop something,” Ace says good-naturedly, patting Sabo’s stiff shoulder. “I get it, you’re justly pissed at some fictional character for making dumb decisions – “

“Damn right I am,” Sabo huffs. “When I was reading it I thought it would never end. The stupidity wouldn’t end. It’s literally some chick playing herself over and over again while the rest of her family screech about marriage – look, let’s just watch the movie adaptation and you will see where I’m coming from. It’s not like you’re gonna read the book.”

“True,” Ace shrugs, sliding his laptop closer. “Movie break. My head’s killing me.”

“We’ve only went over like three authors.”

Ace shoots Sabo a meaningful look, “Your point?”

“Never mind, just google that trainwreck already,” the blond teen resigns himself to a few hours of utter stupidity but at least he gets to watch this nonsense with a friend. “If you think this is stupid, wait till you actually watch P and P.”

* * *

 

Turns out that the whole ‘seething dislike aimed at Elizabeth Bennet and everything that Jane Austen stands for’ outlook is purely subjective.

Ace finds himself oddly invested despite Sabo’s sputtering comments and he still carefully listens to the characters jibe at each other in fancy sentences despite cracking up at Sabo’s high-pitched “look at me, I’m Mr. “Socially inept uguuu” Darcy, let me awkwardly insult you”. Sabo continues talking smack even though the more emotional scenes are genuinely pretty nice and by the end of it, Ace is nearly at the edge of his seat, rooting for that marriage.

“Those supposedly long, loving stares,” Sabo bitterly air quotes while Ace barely fights off the urge to shush him and throw a pillow at his face, “are so fucking awkward. They talked, what now, twice? And they’re in love now? Also they want to get married despite their conversations being mostly insults?”

“Sabo, shut your jealous mouth and let me see if she says yes,” Ace waves a hand in Sabo’s direction, eyes focused on the movie’s main characters exchanging those aforementioned “awkward” gazes. “You’re just mad because you and Elizabeth are alike and have the same principles.”

At that, the blond teen gasps, swatting the back of Ace’s head. “How dare you say that to me!? I’m disowning you.”

“You can’t run away from the truth, Elizabeth,” Ace shoots his friend a teasing smirk and then they spend the rest of the ending credits wrestling on the ground, notes scattered due to Sabo’s haste to strangle Ace asap.

“I can’t believe you actually enjoyed that,” Sabo mutters somewhere near Ace’s ear, chin digging into the surprisingly clean floorboards. “Mr. Darcy cast his spell on you?”

“Is that jealousy I hear?” Ace snorts yet does nothing to shove Sabo off himself, their legs tangled. “I’m sorry to bring you this news, Sab’, but Mr. Darcy is really hot and I too would marry him the moment he accidentally called me stupid. It’s not even a choice if it’s true love,” Sabo gently smacks his nose after Ace makes a grand show of wiggling his eyebrows at him.

“You’d fall for someone you only ever talked to twice? And those conversations weren’t pleasant to begin with,” Sabo rolls off his victim, eyebrows jumping up his forehead, curious to hear Ace’s reply.

Ace wants to say “of course not, you dumbass, that’s like the shittiest start for a romance” but something pulls the words back into his throat as though bound by an invisible elastic band the moment he looks at his companion, elbow propped against the floor, leaning over Ace to get a better look at him. Air catching in throat, Ace coughs a few times, a little uncomfortable. His cheeks feel a bit too warm at the admittance.

“If they don’t have any backbone to stand up for themselves then what is the point, really?” the freckled teen croaks, sitting up so suddenly that Sabo has to fall back to avoid head-on collision. Ace visibly clamps up, twitchy fingers hovering over the keyboard. “Think I got it now, let’s move on to a new author?” his offer sounds a bit like an unvoiced plea.

“Good idea,” Sabo agrees and starts gathering his notes, feeling a little off.

Ace’s words ring in his ears and sit heavy on his chest.

* * *

 

With a lot of bribery, whining and painstaking patience, the boys somehow manage to go over Sabo’s sizable list of more notable lit classics. Ace isn’t sure how much of it he’s going to remember tomorrow morning but he feels like he at least spent his time productively despite having a hard time memorizing the events, dates, genres and various other book-related shenanigans. Sabo pops his back and stretches his sore muscles precisely at 11:45pm, and it’s a wordless agreement that the former is to stay the night. Ace is halfway down the stairs when he hears a groan of his closet doors being opened followed by a whole lot of noise caused by various shit hitting the ground.

Sabo’s startled “ _god!”_  forces Ace to launch himself back to the room and right before Sabo nearly gets knocked the fuck out by the biggest object toppling down the clustered shelves.

“Ugh, there we go,” Ace snatches the instrument from the air, catching the tips of Sabo’s golden curls. “Fuck, are you okay?” the freckled teen worries, lowering the object, checking Sabo for wounds. The latter seemed to have reacted pretty fast, jumping out of harm’s way at the last second.

“Toe,” Sabo hisses, rubbing at his sore foot. There’s an old plastic toy resting on the floor; the space soldier’s sword caught Sabo’s toes real good. “You should really throw half of this shit out,” Sabo scolds, wiggling his socked feet.

“Maybe sometime next year.”

“That’s graduation.”

“Precisely,” Ace calmly says, pushing useless knick-knacks and various clothes around with his leg, overturning some. Years’ worth of memories were locked up inside that closet overflowing with junk. “Why’d you think it was a good idea to open it without me around?”

“Like you would’ve been any safer from getting your head bashed in with – is that a bass guitar?” Sabo’s rant dies down on his tongue and Ace almost startles, blinking before glancing down, gaze sliding over the sleek surface of the said instrument. It’s baby-blue in color, neck crafted of light brown wood.  Sabo’s fingers twitch and he seemingly forgets all about the near-death experience, eager to get his hands on the instrument. Ace’s eyebrows rise – he didn’t think of Sabo as the musical type. “Do you play?”

The question makes the brunet awkwardly shuffle his feet. Without looking up, he hands over the guitar, watches Sabo’s long, thin fingers run over the frets and heavy strings. He plucks at one – the sound is dull, distorted – it makes Ace cringe. He doesn’t have to be a musician to know that it’s out of tune. The guitar’s original owner would be ashamed, he’d kill Ace if he knew how uncared for this instrument was. “Uh, no,” Ace admits. “I tried to learn it but I wasn’t too good. This bass belonged to my best friend. He didn’t really have the patience to deal with my inability to figure out basic bass tricks.”

Sabo’s blue eyes drill holes into Ace’s shadowed face, eyebrows knit together. He seems at a loss of words, “Uh, I’m… sorry?” the blond offers, voice quiet and carefully void of emotion.

Ace snorts. He must’ve given off quite a vibe – “Ah, no, don’t get me wrong he’s not gone or anything. Just that he graduated a few years back and went all the way to Sabaody for college. So this was a parting gift of sorts. I’m not too sure how it got out of its case,” Ace mumbles to himself, standing on his toes to shove his hands under the piles of junk to extract the said case and return the bass to its rightful place.

Sabo whistles, sitting on the bed, the bass resting on his thin thighs. His fingers trace the white cursive on the pale beauty – “The Phoenix”. “That’s really far away,” the teen states, plucking at the thickest string a few more times. Without the “cube” it sounds pretty sad.

Ace halts.

He doesn’t like talking about this stuff but he knows that despite playing it safe Sabo is undeniably curious. It hurts thinking about  _them_ , their little group of misfits, now scattered all across the continent and the rest of the world, unable to meet up due to varying financial issues and distance. They still talk, at least three times per week, game together, but to Ace it’s just not the same. All of them have changed in various ways and while they still make the effort to reconnect, it’s undeniably hard. Especially on Ace who’s been left all alone, on the verge of graduation in himself.

Rule number one: don’t make friends with seniors. They will graduate before you and then leave you all alone. Ace, sadly, didn’t get that memo.

He still sees Thatch and Izo, Thatch being the only one to remain in their shitty little town while Izo continues commuting like they always would. Haruta was Ace’s last ray of hope before graduating too, moving away to W7. Afterwards, Ace started avoiding his old friends altogether, unwilling to get hurt even further – the constant gnawing feeling of loneliness didn’t help his case whatsoever. It was persistent and impossibly hard to get rid of despite Marco calling at least once a week to check in.

Thinking about Marco  _sucks_. Ace loves the guy, sure he does, but that’s precisely why he can’t stand it whenever someone brings him up. The distance sucks too and not having Marco around whenever Ace needs him the most is the actual worst. No offense to the rest of his friends, but none of them could ever replace Marco so Ace often found himself dealing with his issues alone rather than seeking out Izo or Thatch who were probably too damn busy with their own lives to listen to the woes of some stricken teenager.

As if possessed, Ace takes out the bass’ amp, turning it over, the cable neatly folded and hooked underneath it. Behind him, Sabo stops abusing the dead instrument.

“So you at least tried to learn it,” Sabo says tentatively, trying to coax Ace out of his strange, sullen mood. He presents the guitar to him. “You must know at least a few riffs. Play for me?”

Ace forces a smile and the playful grin that he gets in return makes the action less strained. Natural, even. “Sure. I’m really bad at it though. Plus I’ll have to tune it.”

Sabo shuffles aside, lean arms braced against the sheets. “How about you just go for it and I will judge.”

“Can’t wait for you to judge me, Outlook,” Ace huffs sarcastically and rolls his eyes, already messing around with the pegs, tuner stuck in place. “If I kill your ears it won’t be my fault,” Ace tests the D string, fingers sliding over the fretboard.

Sabo’s nose scrunches up, “If it’s “Seven nation army” then you can stop right there.”

Ace’s inquisitive eyebrow raise is self-explanatory. “I may know jack about playing but even I know that it’s the first riff taught to the beginners,” Sabo sticks his tongue out at him.

Ace wants to flick it, settles for the finishing touches. “Okaaaay then. I’m out of ideas, Mr. Music pro,” Sabo’s knee knocks against his. “Marco thought SNA is too basic, I don’t even know how the riff goes,” he tries to recreate it from hearing but the frets are wrong and it sounds so awful that Sabo laughs at him. Ace cackles as well because wow he is really out of practice.

“Just play whatever you remember?”

And Ace does. The riff of “Fluorescent Adolescent” sounds distorted due to his inability to run his fingers over the neck at a natural speed but it kind of sounds like the original.

Sabo leans back with a snicker. “Okay, that was pretty awful,” he teases and Ace smacks him across the thigh. “But if you put some time and effort into it you’re gonna do great.”

Wow, uh.

“That’s unexpectedly sweet of you, judge,” Ace says to which Sabo replies with a “let it go”. “Anyways you can fool around with this bad boy while I go take a quick shower. Just don’t get knocked out or whatever.”

Sabo flips him off and gets right to it, making The Phoenix produce a loud “twang!” because of his too-loose grip.

* * *

 

They hardly sleep.

At night, Sabo rolls onto his side and he asks Ace to tell him more about Marco. How he started playing. How he got the bass. And surprisingly enough, Ace does. Tells Sabo all about his older best friend, about their adventures. About Thatch’s dumb pipe dream to start the hottest boy band of the century; a dream that turned out to be not so dumb after all. Thatch is still going at it, with different back up though. They’re not quite the best but they manage and Ace likes their trashy garage music well-enough. Listens to it on the lonelier nights whenever he’s particularly nostalgic.

“You have great friends, Ace,” Sabo murmurs sleepily, snuggling into the pillow.

Hearing that hurts a little because of various reasons. He doesn’t want to get too deep into them though so he spares Sabo a shaky smile, one the blond probably can’t make out in the dark engulfing the room. “If they haven’t forgotten all about me by now,” he says in a fake-light tone and then promptly shuts his trap when Sabo finds his wrist, squeezing lightly.

“That’s not true and you know it,” he says firmly. “They care about you and the distance isn’t a problem. You talk to them nearly every day, they call you, they write you. They haven’t forgotten you, Ace, and friendship isn’t all about staying around each other all the time or even talking daily – it’s about how you feel. You think you’re going to forget Luffy right after graduation or something?”

“No,” Ace says, quiet. His eyes are downcast. He hates it when Sabo is right, and he is always right.

“See? It’s the same for them. You’ve got friends out there who care for you and who love you. We’re your friends too so you shouldn’t be afraid to lean on us when you have to. I get the loneliness, I really do, but it’s something that your mind is coming up with to upset you because you’re overthinking it. So, uh – “ Sabo’s voice loses the confident tone. He seems to be a bit embarrassed by his own speech. “Don’t overthink it.”

“Okay.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah, I promise.”

“Good,” Sabo says and moves to turn over but Ace makes up his mind, tapping the boy’s shoulder to catch his attention.

“I’m going to a party tomorrow. You want to come with?” he rattles off the proposal before he can backpedal. “It’s hosted by Izo’s friend and they asked if I wanted to join. Luffy was invited too, since, you know, free food and all. I- I could introduce you to my old high school friends. So, uh. I mean join us? If you’re free, of course,” Ace trails off rather nervously, twiddling his thumbs under the sheets for the sake of having something to do.

For a moment it’s eerily quiet. The house is empty tonight – Rouge is out, working a night shift. Spade’s downstairs, undeniably snoring away. Sabo stares at the ceiling, thinking over the invite, weighing the pros and the cons.

“Can I tell you something?” he asks after a while.

“Sure. What’s up?”

“I’ve never actually been to a proper party,” Sabo says. “Don’t laugh, though. I’ve only ever been to fancy restaurants and business meetings and my parents would definitely forbid me from going if they knew where I was headed – “

“No one usually tells their parents “I’m going to a high school party to play Twister,” dude,” Ace snorts. “First of all, no one’s going to believe that it’s a harmless party. Second of all, you gotta bend the truth a little.”

“You mean lie,” Sabo’s voice is flat when he says that.

Ace shrugs, “If you wanna call it that.”

They face each other in bed, Sabo’s lips quirked up, “I’ve no problems with lying to my parents but I won’t even know what to do there. Plus I’m going to show up uninvited. Isn’t that kind of rude?”

“Please. Everyone’s going to be too damn wasted to give a fuck,” Ace snorts. “You’re gonna have a great time and it’s going to be amazing. That’s all there is to it.”

“Alright,” Sabo decides, nodding to himself. “I don’t see why not. But I’m not drinking.”

“Okay.”

“And you better bring me home before midnight,” Sabo laughs, and Ace laughs too, promising to return the fair Cinderella back to her prison right before the clock strikes twelve.

* * *

 

Sabo figures that Cinderella wouldn’t be called Cinderella if she didn’t have a terrible guardian wishing for her demise and an evil family to boot. Frankly speaking, he and Cinderella seem to have a whole lot in common because his mother responds with a big fat no to Sabo’s meek “I’m heading out”.

Sabo has to text his Prince Charming that he won’t be making it to party due to his parents getting suspicious of his random disappearances – plus, they have a fancy business dinner to attend to and the entire Outlook family is to be present at this event.

“Fuck my life,” Sabo whispers as he fixes his too tight midnight-blue tie, the suit making him feel trapped. Ace’s new text buzzes in the tiny pocket of his slacks – a promise to be there at all times with fresh liveblogs from the party to make Sabo feel less alienated from both his family and his friends. Sabo appreciates it.

The car ride is awkward and Sabo keeps getting nasty glares from his mother whenever she hears the buzz of his phone. After the third reply she clears her throat in a manner that makes her appear to be dying of stage four hypopharyngeal cancer, so Sabo withholds an exaggerated eyeroll, turns off the notification vibrations and pockets the phone, gaze fixed on the blur of neons outside the car, the tinted windows reflecting Stelly’s disgusted expression – he appears to be mentally setting Sabo’s black suit on fire with those hateful, squinting eyes alone. Sabo can relate – he’d gladly pour some gasoline into the flames, the sleeves of the blazer feeling a little too tight; an ever-present reminder of his hatred for suits in general.

Mother asks him if he’s been putting on some weight. Sabo looks at her as though she’s just grown another head. Sabo views himself as a humanoid praying mantis – bony torso too long, legs too thin, shoulders too wide, face too sharp, too angular. He looks awkward and possibly unattractive so his mother’s unnecessary comments add nothing to his pathetic self-esteem.

The dinner is awkward too and strained as always. Sabo greets the other family and then spends the rest of the night with his head bowed low, his phone out and sitting in his lap. Ace, who is tasked with babysitting Luffy, seems to be reaching his wits’ end, having lost the latter at least an hour ago. Sabo tells him to go have fun, do… party things or whatever, but Ace is too busy staying true to his cause – he texts so much that Sabo barely manages to reply, reading over the entertaining texts.

_Ace: someone just tried to pick me up holy shit_

_it was damn hilarious let me tell you_

_but damn that dude’s plastered as hell_

_how’s he standing upright_

_S: You sure are popular with the boys_

_Ace: ofc I am_

_im like mr darcy of modern times everyone wants a piece of that_

_imagine being drunk to the point u go up to someone and say “mount me, dude”_

_S: there’s no way in hell that’s a real thing that actually happened_

_stop lying for attention_

_Ace: would I ever_

_S: you want a list >? _

_what did you say?_

_Ace: i looked him dead in the eye and I said “yeah, saw some mountain dew on the table at the kitchen”_

_skajdalkfj his face A++++_

_would repeat_

_S: master flirterer_

_flirtererer is that a word_

_Ace: stop drinking fancy rich people water_

_drunk ass_

_S: I’ll have you know that im fully sober_

_Ace: sure and im the king of drum_

_S: its hard to keep up with ur shitposts and keep stealth ace_

_Mom’s looking at me like shes about to throw her glass at my head_

_I already have orange juice on my sleeve because stelly “accidentally” tipped his glass_

_Ace: its so sad that this is the only time you can get those juices flowing_

Sabo snorts so hard that he has to fake a coughing fit. His left knee is sore where it came in contact with the underside of the table. Father shoots him a dark look that just screams “we’re going to have a serious talk once we get back”. Thankfully the girl sitting by his side doesn’t rat out his whirlwind texting. She appears to be just as bored as Sabo feels. The latter wonders if they can perhaps talk and even become acquaintances but Ace has managed to successfully steal the entirety of Sabo’s attention for himself.

When he risks looking down at the phone again, their conversation has already disappeared from the screen, replaced by Ace’s adventures with some guy offering him weed.

_Ace: idk, he left some for me free of charge, what do I do with it_

_I wanna hit the blunt_

_S: do not hit the blunt, that’s the devil talking_

_Ace: oh youre back long time no texting_

_also apparently the devil wants me to hit the blunt_

_who am I to say no_

_im about to hit the bong and then astral project to your restaurant and challenge your dad to a duel_

_he will be catching these hands how dare he deny us our sabo rights_

Underneath the table, his mother is desperately trying to crush his toes with the sharp heel of her shoe, but even then Sabo doesn’t stop smiling. The flush on his face remains for an hour afterwards.

Ace hits the blunt. Sabo no longer bothers with replying, reading over the wonky responses with a fond smile on his face.

Right now, he’s not scared. He’s there with Ace, laughing at brightly-colored shoe laces and weird haircuts. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bailando by paradisio is such a meme in our sociology gang g o d


End file.
